THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


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SKETCHES 


EMINENT    METHODIST    MINISTERS. 


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llustrations. 


EDITED     BY 


JOHN   M'CLINTOCK,  D.  D, 


PUBLISHED   BY   CARLTON   &   PHILLIPS. 

200    MULBERRY-STREET. 
1854. 


v/f 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1853,  by 

CARLTON  &  PHILLIPS, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Southern  District  of 
New-York. 


BX 


r  t  i  a  r  t. 


THE  "age  of  chivalry"  was  renewed  in  its  noblest 
aspects,  in  the  beginnings  of  Methodism.  Its  history, 
especially  in  America,  is  a  record  of  moral  heroism 
unsurpassed  in  any  age  of  the  Church.  The  story  is 
yet  unwritten.  The  historians  of  the  country  have 

<     generally  ignored,  in  utter  blindness,  one  of  the  richest 

to 

3     fields  open  to  them  ;  and  the  historians  of  the  Church 

have  done  but  little  toward  a  true  and  ample  account 
Jf 

"»    of  the  vast  and  valorous  labours  of  these  modern  apos- 
§    ties.     Every  memorial,  then,  however  slight,  of  the 
lives  and  toils  of  the  fathers  is  at  once  a  blessing  to 
$     the  Church,  and  a  contribution  to  the  true  history  of 
o     the  civilization  of  the  age.     To  this  class  belong  the 
sketches  of  Wesley,  Fletcher,  Garrettson,  M'Kendree, 
Roberts,  Pickering,  and  Hedding,  given  in  this  volume. 
To  a  later  period  belong  the  lives  of  Fisk,  Emory, 
Levings,  and  Olin  ;  but  the  very  names  will  justify 
their  collocation  here  with  the  elder  fathers.     They  are 


44  ?955 


4  PREFACE. 

illustrations — wonderful  illustrations  in  fact — of  the 
vigorous  and  healthful  growth  of  Methodism ;  each  of 
them  affording  a  noble  specimen  of  high  intellectual 
power  and  large  accomplishments  devoted,  with  entire 
self-denial,  to  the  service  of  the  Church  of  God. 

One  memoir,  and  only  one,  of  a  living  person  is 
given :  and  the  name  of  JABEZ  BUNTING,  the  great 
leader  of  English  Methodism,  will  justify  that  devia- 
tion from  the  plan  of  the  volume,  if  any  name  could. 

The  names  of  the  authors  of  the  sketches  are  given 
in  the  table  of  contents,  except  in  two  instances  not 
left  to  the  editor's  discretion. 

Should  this  volume  meet  with  the  favour  of  the 
public,  it  will  be  followed  by  another,  and  perhaps  by 
several,  in  succeeding  years,  printed  and  illustrated  in 
the  same  beautiful  style. 

JOHN  M'CLINTOCK. 

NEW-YORK,  Oct.  20,  1863. 


C 


PAGE 

JOHN  WESLEY 9 

BY  THE  KEY.  O.  T.  DOBBIN,  LL.  D.,  HTTLL  COLLEGE,  ENGLAND. 

WILLIAM  M'KENDREE 69 

BY  THE  BET.  B.  BT.  J.  FRY. 

JOHN  EMORY 105 

BY  JOHN  M'CLINTOCK,  D.  D. 

ROBERT  R.  ROBERTS 139 

BY  J.  FLOY,  D.  D. 

ELIJAH  HEDDING 159 

BY  THE  BET.  M.  L.  BCUDDER,  A.  M. 

JOHN  FLETCHER , 191 

BY  THE  BEY.  J.  B.  HAGANY,  A.  M. 

FREEBORN  GARRETTSON 223 

WILLBUR  FISK 241 

BY  BET.  PBOFESSOB  O.  H.  TIFFANY,  A.  M. 

GEORGE  PICKERING 263 

BY  THB  BET.  ABEL  8TETEN8,  A.  M. 

NOAH  LEVINGS 275 

BY  ».  "W.  CLABK,  ».  D. 

STEPHEN  OLIN 317 

BY  J.  FLOY,  D.  D. 

JABEZ  BUNTING 343 

BY  THE  BET.  ABEL  STEVENS,  A.  M. 

THE  OLD  NEW-ENGLAND  CONFERENCE....  ,     361 


II  n  s  t  rations. 


FACING  PAGE 

JOHN  WESLEY 1 

EPWORTH  CHURCH 18 

EPWORTH  RECTORY 19 

CHARTER-HOUSE 21 

OLD  FOUNDRY 38 

WESLEY,  HAMILTON,  AND   COLE 62 

(AS  SEEN  -WALKING  IN  THE  STREETS  OP  EDINBURGH.) 

WILLIAM  M'KENDREE 69 

FIRST  METHODIST  CHURCH  IN  OHIO 78 

JOHN    EMORY 105 

METHODIST   BOOK   CONCERN 122 

ROBERT  R.  ROBERTS 139 

ELIJAH  HEDDING 159 

JOHN  FLETCHER 191 

MADELEY    CHURCH 199 

THE  HOUSE   IN  WHICH  FLETCHER  WAS  BORN. 209 

FREEBORN   GARRETTSON 223 

WILLBUR    FISK 241 

GEORGE  PICKERING 263 

PICKERING'S   MANSION 268 

NOAH   LEVINGS 275 

STEPHEN    OLIN. 317 

JABEZ  BUNTING 343 

WESLEYAN  THEOLOGICAL  INSTITUTE,  RICHMOND,  ENG 356 

ENTRANCE  HALL  AND  PRINCIPAL  STAIRCASE 367 

THE   OLD  NEW-ENGLAND  CONFERENCE....                               .  361 


The  incidents  of  history  and  the  objects  of  nature  derive 
much  of  their  impressiveness  from  the  circumstances  sur- 
rounding both.  Contrast  is  essential  to  grand  effects.  The 
massacre  at  Bethlehem  gathers  blackness  from  the  infant 
age  of  the  victims ;  and  the  frantic  leap  of  Niagara  con- 
trasts finely  with  the  oily  smoothness  of  the  river  above 
the  Fall.  The  voyager  near  "earth's  central  line" — the 
region  of  perpetual  sun  and  frequent  calm,  where  the 
surface  of  the  sea  is  unbroken  with  a  billow,  yet  the  bulk 
of  the  ocean  moves  together  like  some  monster  labouring 
under  an  oppressive  load 

"  in  torrid  clime 
Dark  heaving,  boundless,  endless,  and  sublime ;" — 

marks  the  huge  sweltering  gambols  of  the  whale,  and 
hears  the  loud  hiss  and  rush  of  the  jet  he  projects  into  the 
air  best  in  the  cool  gray  and  death-like  stillness  of  the 
early  dawn.  The  level  and  the  quiet  of  all  around 
convey  the  most  vivid  and  instantaneous  impressions  to 
the  watcher's  eye  and  ear;  and  "There  is  that  leviathan!" 


10  JOHN    WESLEY. 

(Psa.  civ,  26,)  bursts  from  the  lips  with  an  assurance  and  a 
rapture  which  its  unwieldy  pas  seuls  would  not  awaken 
amid  the  stirring  activities  of  day  and  the  distraction  of 
stormier  scenes  and  wilder  moods.  And  having  traversed 
under  a  burning  summer  sun  the  length  of  some  Swiss 
valley,  and  encountered  in  your  fatiguing  march,  knap- 
sack on  shoulder  and  staff  in  hand,  the  varieties  of  mid- 
winter temperature  by  the  mer  de  glace,  and  the  heat  of 
the  dog-days  in  deep,  serene,  and  sheltered  nooks,  where 
air  to  breathe  seems  almost  as  great  a  rarity  as  wind  to 
blow,  where  the  fumes  of  the  rank  vegetation  and  the  wild 
flowers  are  stifling  and  unhealthy, — what  think  you  is  the 
fittest  time  and  place  to  hear  the  thunder  of  the  avalanche, 
and  trace  and  tremble  at  its  fall  ?  It  is  just  at  that  cool 
hour  when,  refreshed  at  your  hostelry,  your  sense  of  weari- 
ness is  removed,  but  sufficient  languor  remains  to  tame 
down  your  mind  into  harmony  with  the  scene,  and  you 
wander  out  some  half-mile  from  your  temporary  home, 
like  the  orphan  patriarch  of  old,  to  meditate  at  eventide. 
The  sun  has  just  set  over  the  Jungfrau  or  Schreckhorn, 
and,  liberal  of  its  cosmetics,  has  laid  its  red  upon  the  dead 
cheek  of  the  everlasting  snow.  There  is  not  a  breeze 
stirring.  The  brief  twilight  is  just  about  to  close  in  night. 
The  wing  of  the  last  loitering  bee  has  been  folded  in  its 
hive.  The  beetle  has  droned  his  sonorous  vesper-hymn. 
All  is  silence,  uninterrupted  by  a  sound,  except  perchance 
at  distant  intervals  the  faint  bleat  of  the  goat  on  the  rock 
high  overhead,  or  the  whistle  of  some  shepherd-pipe  in  the 
hand  of  the  rustic  returning  from  his  labour : — • 

"  For  here  the  patriarchal  days 
Are  not  a  pastoral  fable ;  pipes  in  the  liberal  air 
Mix  with  the  sweet  bells  of  the  sauntering  herd." 


JOHN    WESLEY.  11 

Then  on  the  startled  ear,  that  has  been  learning  wisdom  at 
the  feet  of  silence,  bursts  a  crack,  like  the  sharp  instanta- 
neous report  of  a  rifle,  followed  and  drowned  on  the 
moment  by  a  confused  rustle,  hoarse  rumble,  and  after- 
ward a  heavy  thunderous  sound  of  fall  and  concussion, 
comparable  to  nothing  so  much  as  the  cadence  of  ten 
thousand  woolpacks  dropped  together  upon  a  boarden 
floor.  The  danger  is  not  near,  but  the  vibrations  of  the 
air  and  the  almost  breathless  hush  of  the  evening  make  it 
seem  so.  A  mountain  of  snow  and  commingled  ice  has 
fallen  down  some  gorge  that  debouches  into  our"  valley, 
and  a  spray  of  snowy  particles,  which  rises  cloudwise  into 
the  darkening  sky,  shows  the  scene  and  the  nature  of  the 
ruinous  visitation.  The  tranquillity  of  the  hour  makes  the 
crash  more  loud,  the  devastation  more  appalling.  Amid 
lightning,  tempest,  and  thunder,  the  chief  effect  had  been 
lost — the  avalanche  had  been  unnoticed — the  crown  of 
majesty  had  fallen  unheeded  from  the  monarch  moun- 
tain's head. 

A  phenomenon  with  like  effect,  appealing  to  a  different 
sense,  will  show  itself  in  other  scenes.  As  the  traveller 
approaches  Rome  from  the  south,  leaving  Naples  with  its 
charms  and  its  cheats,  its  lazzaroni  and  its  liveliness,  its 
exquisite  sky  and  sea,  with  its  execrable  superstition,  dirt, 
and  frivolty  behind;  but  notwithstanding  all  its  draw- 
backs, where 

"  Simply  to  feel  that  we  breathe,  that  we  live, 

Is  worth  all  the  joys  that  life  elsewhere  can  give," 

and  passing  the  sounding  sea  and  the  dismal  marsh,  lofty 
Terracina  and  lowly  Fondi,  at  length  tops  the  range  that 
encloses  the  Campagna  southward,  what  object  is  it  chiefly 


12  JOHN    WESLEY. 

arrests  the  eye  ?  In  that  great  ocean  of  a  plain,  a  hundred 
miles  by  fifty,  the  seeming  crater  of  some  gigantic  volcano, 
with  its  sulphur  streams  and  its  noisome  stenches,  like  a 
bark  upon  the  waters,  floats  imperial  Eome,  the  object 
most  conspicuous  in  the  eternal  city  the  wondrous  cupola, 
which  speaks  her  the  queen  of  architectural  grandeur, 
resting  like  a  diadem  upon  her  brow,  and  bearing  no 
remote  resemblance  to  the  tiara  of  her  pontiff  ruler; — 
nothing  besides  can  arrest  the  gaze.  The  eye  takes  in,  in 
its  sweep,  the  mountain  line  of  the  northern  and  eastern 
horizon,  Soracte,  empurpled  by  distance,  with  its  sister 
ridges  on  the  right,  the  silver  sea  with  Ostia  on  the  left. 
It  marks  the  ruins  that  here  and  there  stud  the  plain — -the 
tombs,  the  towns,  the  towers,  the  arches,  and  the  aque- 
ducts, the  long  reaches  of  which  last  stretch  in  picturesque 
continuity  here  and  there,  like  a  caravan  of  mules  wind- 
ing over  the  sierras  of  Granada.  We  stand  on  the  brow 
of  Albano,  sheltering  ourselves  from  the  midday  sun  under 
the  shade  of  some  broad  plane-tree,  or  luxuriant  elm,  or 
embowering  vine,  and  see — we  cannot  but  see — the  tomb 
of  Pompey,  the  ruins  of  Bovillse,  Frattochie,  Torre  di 
Mezza  Yia,  perhaps  even  Metella's  tomb,  and  catch 
glimpses  now  and  then  of  the  unequalled  Yia  Appia,  its 
geometrical  rectitude  in  striking  contrast  with  the  ser- 
pentining Tiber;  but  above  all,  and  beyond  all,  we  look 
upon  that  group  in  the  centre  of  the  picture,  that  lone 
mother  of  dead  empires,  "the  Mobe  of  nations" — Eome. 
All  objects  besides  are  unattractive;  the  mountains  too 
distant,  the  ruins  too  bare,  the  wild  flowers  of  this  huge 
prairie  too  minute  and  commonplace  for  special  attention; 
all  things  near  the  soil,  too,  quiver  in  the  dazzling  light 
and  burning  heat  of  noon ;  but  high  above  the  undulating 


JOHN    WESLEY.  13 

vapour,  and  towering  in  its  Parian  whiteness  up  into  an 
angelic  sky,  rises  the  colossal  creation  of  Buonarotti's 
genius.  "We  glance  at  other  objects;  we  gaze  at  this.  It 
breaks  the  line  of  our  northern  horizon  with  a  pomp  and 
pretension  that  nothing  besides  can  dare.  It  looms  out  of 
the  bosom  of  the  "weary,  stale,  flat,  and  unprofitable" 
foreground,  a  pleasant  and  most  exciting  landmark,  an 
ecclesiastical  Eddystone  in  the  unbillowy  sea  of  the  Cam- 
pagna.  This  greatest  of  man's  works,  which  would  be 
insignificant  beside  the  works  of  God — the  Alps  or  the 
nearer  Apennines — is  here  great,  comparatively  so,  just  as 
a  man  of  five  feet  stature  would  be  a  giant  among  Lilli- 
putians of  one.  We  speak  not  of  its  moral  interest — that 
is  superlative  and  enchaining;  but  of  its  material  inches, 
whereby  it  overtops  almost  every  object  within  a  circuit 
of  twenty  miles.  Look  from  any  extremity  of  the  Cam- 
pagna  to  the  centre,  and  St.  Peter's,  like  a  stone  Saul, 
over-measures  all  competing  altitudes  by  the  head  and 
lofty  shoulders. 

And  this  brings  us,  by  a  roundabout  way  possibly,  to 
the  point  at  which  we  aim — a  comparative  estimate  of  tlie 
greatness  of  John  Wesley  by  the  littleness  of  the  times  in 
which  he  lived.  Our  purpose  has  been  too  obvious,  we 
trust,  to  need  the  application  of  our  figures.  We  mean 
simply  to  imply  that  Wesley  was  that  waterspout  and 
snowy  spray-jet,  roaring  in  the  stillness  of  morning,  and 
arched  over  the  calm  surface  of  the  sea  on  the  gray  can- 
vass of  the  horizon ; — Wesley  that  ice-crash  rasping  down 
the  mountain-side,  startling  the  ear  of  silence  in  Helvetian 
solitudes,  upsetting  the  equilibrium  of  all  things,  shaking 
the  earth  and  air  and  the  listener's  frame,  like  the  spasm 
of  an  earthquake ; — Wesley,  in  fine,  that  dome,  "  the  vast 


14  JOHN    WESLEY. 

and  wondrous  dome,"  lofty  in  proportions,  perfect  in  sym- 
metry, suspended  in  mid-air,  by  the  happy  conception  of 
him  whose  great  thought,  like  all  great  thoughts,  was 
manifestly  inspired,  "a  heavenly  guest,  a  ray  of  immor- 
tality," and  which  aerial  pile,  wander  where  we  will  within 
its  range,  is  the  attracting  centre  of  vision,  the  cynosure  of 
all  eyes. 

In  the  particular  field  Wesley  took  upon  him  to  culti- 
vate he  stood  alone,  or  almost  alone,  and  his  position  adds 
magnitude  to  all  his  dimensions.  He  fills  the  picture.  It 
were  scarce  exaggeration  to  travesty  the  Grand  Louis's 
terse  egotism,  "The  State!  that  is,  I,"  and  put  it  into  our 
reformer's  mouth  at  the  commencement  of  his  career — 
"  Keligion !  that  is,  I."  The  religious  sensibility  of  Eng- 
land lay  dead  or  chained  in  "the  breathless,  hushed,  and 
stony  sleep"  of  the  Princess  Dormita  and  her  retinue  in 
the  fairy  tale.  He  alone  seemed  awake  to  the  exigencies 
of  the  times,  the  responsibilities  of  the  ministry,  the  cor- 
ruption of  manners,  and  the  value  of  souls.  This  state- 
ment will  of  course  be  understood  with  all  the  qualifica- 
tion truth  demands  on  behalf  of  some  exemplary  parish 
clergymen  who  sparsely  enlightened  the  darkness  around 
them,  but  who  never  passed  into  the  broad  sunshine  of 
general  reputation  or  extensive  influence.  There  were 
those,  we  gladly  own,  who  bowed  not  the  knee  to  the 
prevailing  dissoluteness  or  indifference;  but,  like  angels' 
visits,  these  were  few  and  far  between.  And  it  is  not  to 
be  denied  that  in  many  non-conformist  places  of  worship, 
under  the  combined  influence  of  the  persecutions  of  earlier 
years,  general  contempt,  and  their  close-borough  constitu- 
tion and  government  which  took  them  out  of  the  healthful 
and  conservative  current  of  public  opinion,  vital  religion 


JOHN    WESLEY.  15 

was  becoming  a  name,  and  the  doctrine  of  the  Cross  pass- 
ing into  "another  gospel"  in  which  the  Cross  had  no 
place.  Arianism,  with  stealthy  steps,  was  creeping  in 
upon  the  fold  of  Presbyterianism  "  for  to  steal,  and  to  kill, 
and  to  destroy ;"  while  Independency  either  withered  into 
a  cold  protest  against  the  established  episcopacy,  shot  into 
seed  in  the  unhealthy  luxuriance  of  hyper-Calvinism,  or 
was  too  insignificant  to  be  of  any  account  whatever  in  an 
ecclesiastical  notice  of  the  period. 

The  general  condition  of  the  Church  of  England  was 
deplorable.  There  was  no  lack  of  learning  and  respecta- 
bility in  many  quarters,  but,  as  a  whole,  its  state  could  not 
satisfy  a  conscientious  observer.  The  study  of  the  Greek 
language  and  the  introduction  of  the  theology  of  the  Greek 
school  since  the  Reformation,  together  \tith  various  politi- 
cal causes,  had  combined  to  produce  a  latitudinarian  and 
moderated  style  of  preaching  and  acting  among  the 
clergy  at  large.  The  best  men  were  most  entirely  under 
the  influences  we  have  named.  Their  learning,  their 
enlightened  hatred  of  the  fanaticism  under  the  common- 
wealth, and  an  honourable  sense  of  the  advantages  of 
their  position,  made  them  carefully  shun  the  excesses  of 
non-conforming  zeal,  and  generously  avoid  giving  offence 
to  conscientious  dissenters.  The  names  of  Tillotson  and 
Tennison,  Doctors  Samuel  Clark  and  Jortin,  will  tolerably 
fairly  represent  the  reigning  spirit  of  the  better  part  of  the 
clerical  body  about  the  commencement  of  the  eighteenth 
century;  while  others  were  contented  to  be  as  devoid  of 
evangelical  unction  as  they,  without  their  accomplish- 
ments and  decent  behaviour.  But  in  the  ministry  of 
souls  moderation  is  madness,  and  want  of  zeal  death. 
Men  betake  themselves  to  a  formal  minister  as  they  do  to 


16  JOHN    WESLEY. 

the  grave-digger,  an  inevitable  but  unpleasant  functionary, 
whose  services  they  never  relish,  and  whose  inane  morali- 
ties cannot  edify.  Such,  unfortunately,  was  the  ecclesias- 
tical condition  of  England  when  the  Wesleys  arose,  and  it 
is  no  breach  of  charity  to  aver,  that,  weighed  in  the 
balances  of  heaven,  the  existing  ministry  throughout  the 
country  was  found  at  that  period,  as  to  its  most  exalted 
aims  and  divine  results,  utterly  wanting.  We  are  not 
blind  to  the  subordinate  advantages  a  widely-established 
corporation  of  more  or  less  educated  men  must  entail 
upon  a  land,  men  by  their  profession  the  friends  of  order, 
decency,  and  humanity ;  but  at  the  same  time  we  cannot 
forget  that  the  Church  is  neither  a  police-court,  a  philo- 
sophical school,  nor  an  almonry.  Men  may  be  mild 
magistrates,  wise«teachers,  exemplary  country  gentlemen, 
without  fear  and  without  reproach  on  the  score  of  morals 
and  manners,  and  yet  be  destitute  of  the  spirit  of  their 
office  and  ignorant  of  its  claims.  We  draw  the  veil  over 
anything  worse  which  presents  itself  for  comment  in  the 
clerical  profession  at  that  period.  There  was  enough  in 
the  aspect  of  the  times,  even  upon  the  most  indulgent 
showing,  to  make  the  mission  of  some  such  agent  as  John 
Wesley  a  necessity  as  imperative  as  the  mission  of  one  of 
the  judges  in  the  straits  and  abjectness  of  Israel,  or  the 
requisitions  of  the  economic  law  that  the  demand  regu- 
lates the  supply. 

In  such  circumstances  was  Providence  nurturing  a  man 
for  the  hour,  while  the  hour  was  as  divinely  and  obviously 
prepared  for  the  man.  And  neither  from  kingly  courts 
nor  cloistered  cells  was  the  hero  of  "  this  strange  eventful 
history"  to  come — the  man  that  was  to  work  wider  change 
upon  the  religious  and  social  aspect  of  England  than  has 


JOHN    WESLEY.  17 

ever  been  effected  by  any  reformer  since  Christianity 
visited  our  shores.  In  truth,  his  sympathies  were  neither 
with  the  monk  nor  the  monarch,  but,  a  child  of  the  peo- 
ple, as  all  great  reformers  have  been,  his  sympathies  were 
with  the  masses,  the  men  from  whom  he  sprung.  He 
was  reared  amid  obscurity,  poverty,  and  rebuke, — rebuke 
that  implied  no  disgrace,  poverty  which  piety  hallowed, 
obscurity  that  bred  no  discontent, — and  he  never  forgot  the 
discipline  of  his  childhood  nor  the  tradition  of  his  poor  but 
godly  parentage,  and  his  heart  ever  found  its  most  genial 
soil  amid  the  humble,  holy,  and  enduring  people  of  God. 
Of  ambition,  with  which  he  has  been  most  recklessly 
charged,  he  seems  to  have  been  absolutely  incapable, 
except  the  ambition  of  doing  good.  He  had  rather  suffer 
any  day  than  shine.  In  fact,  to  suffer,  if  by  that  be  meant 
to  labour  to  fatigue,  and  self-denial  to  austerity,  became  a 
necessity  of  his  nature,  while  to  shine  was  as  deliberately 
rejected  as  this  was  pursued.  And  it  was  this  thorough 
oneness  of  mind,  propension,  and  condition  with  the  peo- 
ple, which  prompted  and  controlled  his  career.  He  looked 
at  the  man  through  the  frieze-jacket  of  careful  thrift  and 
"  the  looped  and  windowed  raggedness"  of  abject  penury; 
yea,  he  looked  at  him  in  the  haunts  of  vice  and  the  prison- 
house  of  the  criminal,  and  saw  written  upon  him  even 
there,  in  indubitable  presence,  the  image,  though  sorely 
mutilated,  of  God,  just  as  beneath  the  jewelled  cap  of 
maintenance  and  the  purple  of  nobility  he  saw  no  more. 
Not  knowing,  therefore,  or  not  heeding  the  distinctions 
that  obtain  among  men,  the  object  of  his  ministry  was 
man.  He  was  swayed  by  no  class  predilections,  or  unso- 
cial partialities,  save  that  his  high  sense  of  duty  and  the 
special  demands  of  his  mission  made  him  prevailingly  the 

2 


18  JOHN     WESLEY. 

friend  of  the  friendless  and  the  comforter  of  the  lowly. 
In  this  aspect  of  his  work  his  imitation  of  Christ  was  pre- 
eminent, that  his  labour  of  love  was  specially  consecrated 
"  to  seek  and  to  save  that  which  was  lost." 

But  we  anticipate,  and  must  glance  at  the  boy  Wesley, 
and  the  circumstances  which  proved  the  Campus  Martius 
to  train  him  for  his  lifelong  conflict  "  with  the  rulers  of 
the  darkness  of  this  world,  with  spiritual  wickedness  in 
high  places." 

Close  bordering  on  the  winding  Trent,  in  one  of  the 
richest  portions  of  Lincolnshire,  is  the  parish  and  manor 
of  Ep worth,  the  church  standing  upon  an  elevation  reached 
by  a  gentle  ascent  about  four  miles  from  the  river,  but 
shaded  from  view  by  a  shoulder  of  the  hill.  Right  well 
do  we  remember  our  pilgrimage  to  that  spot  a  few  short 
months  ago.  The  heavens  smiled  propitiously  on  our  pur- 
pose, for  never  did  a  brighter  spring  sun  pour  gladness 
into  the  heart  than  that  which  shone  upon  us  as  we  crept 
blithely  along  the  road  that  gradually  swept  up  from  the 
ferry.  Our  sensations  we  will  not  attempt  to  describe,  as 
'we  paced  the  pathway  of  the  quiet  old  country  town, 
where  the  first  relic  we  picked  up  was  the  characteristic 
one  of  a  torn  page  of  the  New  Testament.  Suffice  it  to 
say,  that  it  was  with  more  than  common  emotion  we 
looked  upon  the  font  where  the  man  whose  genius  made 
the  celebrity  of  the  place  had  been  baptized ;  upon  the 
communion  table  where  Wesley  had  often  officiated,  yet 
whence  he  had  been  rudely  repulsed  by  an  intemperate 
and  ungrateful  priest,  who  had  owed  his  all  to  the  Wes- 
leys ;  on  the  tombstone  of  his  father,  which  on  that  occa- 
sion and  subsequently  served  the  itinerant  John  for  a 
pulpit,  from  which  he  addressed  weeping  multitudes  in 


JOHN    WESLEY.  19 

the  churchyard ;  on  the  withered  sycamore  beneath  whose 
shade  he  must  have  played;  and  finally,  through  the 
courtesy  of  the  rector,  the  Hon.  and  Rev.  Charles  Dundas, 
on  the  parsonage,  now  scarcely  recognisable  for  the  same 
from  the  improvement  it  has  received  at  the  hand  of 
wealth  guided  by  the  eye  of  taste,  though  old  Jeffrey's 
room  still  retains  much  of  its  ghostliness.  The  day  that 
revealed  to  us  all  these  and  sundry  memorabilities  is  one 
to  be  noted  with  chalk  in  our  calendar. 

The  lower  ground  of  the  isle  of  Axholme,  in  the  midst 
of  which  Epworth  stands,  had  from  time  immemorial  been 
subject  to  almost  constant  submersion  from  the  river,  and 
was  little  better  than  a  Mere,  the  title  Leland  gives  it  in 
his  Itinerary.  Its  value,  however,  was  so  obvious  to  the 
eyes  of  both  natives  and  foreigners,  that  a  charter  to  drain 
this  whole  country  side  was  given  to  Cornelius  Yermuy- 
den  in  the  time  of  the  Stuarts,  and  the  thing  was  done,  to 
the  rescue  of  a  considerable  part  of  the  king's  chase  from 
the  dominion  of  the  lawless  waters,  and  to  the  increase  of 
the  arable  and  pasture  land  of  the  neighbourhood,  to  the 
extent  of  many  thousand  acres  of  "a  fine  rich  brown  loam, 
than  which  there  is  none  more  fertile  in  England."  To 
this  parish  the  father  of  our  hero  was  presented  in  the 
year  1693,  as  a  reward  for  his  merits  in  defending  from 
the  press  the  Revolution  of  1688.  The  living  was  of 
inconsiderable  amount,  under  £200  per  annum,  but  by  no 
means  contemptible  to  a  waiter  upon  Providence,  whose 
clerical  income  had  never  before  averaged  £50  per  year, 
and  was  the  more  agreeable  as  it  promised  to  lead  to 
something  better,  since  the  ground  of  his  present  advance- 
ment was  the  recognition  in  high  places  of  the  opportune 
loyalty  of  the  literary  parson.  Here,  with  a  regularly 


20  JOHN    WESLEY. 

increasing  family,  without  any  corresponding  increase  of 
stipend,  the  exemplary  rector  laboured  for  ten  years  ere 
the  birth  of  his  son  John,  "  contending  with  low  wants 
and  lofty  will,"  with  the  dislike  and  opposition  of  his 
unruly  parishioners,  with  his  own  chafed  tempers  and 
disappointed  expectations,  with  serious  inroads  upon  his 
income  by  fire  and  flood,  and  with  the  drag-chain  of  a 
poverty  that  pressed  upon  the  means  of  subsistence,  and 
which  his  literary  labours  availed  little  to  lighten. 

Our  sympathies  gather  round  the  "busy  bee"  whose 
active  industry  and  zeal  could  not  shield  his  hive  from 
spoliation  and  misfortune,  while  many  a  contemporary 
drone  surfeited  in  abundance,  and  wore  out  a  useless  life 
in  luxury,  self-indulgence,  and  criminal  ease.  Ere  his  son 
John,  the  future  father  of  Methodism,  had  completed  his 
third  year,  the  rector  of  Ep worth  was  in  jail  for  debt. 
The  exasperation  of  party,  which  he  took  no  means  to 
allay,  but  rather  chafed  and  provoked,  for  he  gloried  in 
his  "Church  and  State  politics,"  being  "sufficiently  ele- 
vated" brought  down  upon  him  the  unmanly  vengeance 
of  his  creditors,  and  they  spited  their  political  opponent 
by  throwing  him  into  prison.  This  affliction  brought  him 
friends,  who  succeeded  in  procuring  his  release  after  an 
incarceration  of  some  months,  but  neither  enlarged  his 
resources  nor  increased  liis  prudence.  He  seems  to  have 
been  a  stem  if  a  faithful  pastor,  and  when  called  to 
encounter  prejudices,  to  have  met  them  with  prejudices 
as  virulent  of  his  own. 

Into  such  a  home  as  all  this  bespeaks,  needy  but  not 
sordid,  poverty-stricken  yet  garnished  by  high  principle 
and  dogged  resolution,  full  of  anxieties  for  temporal  pro- 
vision, yet  free  from  the  discontent  that  dishonours  God, 


JOHN    WESLEY.  21 

was  John  Wesley  ushered,  on  the  17th  of  June,  1703. 
For  all  that  made  the  comfort  of  that  home,  the  joy  of 
his  childhood  and  the  glory  of  his  riper  years,  the  great 
reformer  was  indebted  to  his  mother ;  as  who,  that  is  ever 
great  or  good,  is  not  ? 

Never  was  child  more  fortunate  in  a  maternal  guide 
than  young  Wesley,  and  never  could  mother  claim  more 
exclusively  the  credit  of  her  son's  early  training.  At 
eleven  years  of  age  he  left  home  for  the  Charterhouse- 
school,  but  up  to  that  period  he  was  educated  by  his 
mother.  Literary  composition,  correspondence,  and  paro- 
chial and  secular  duties  fully  employed  his  father;  but 
amid  the  domestic  cares  of  fifteen  living  children,  his 
pious  and  gifted  mother  found  time  to  devote  six  hours 
daily  to  the  education  of  her  family. 

Passing  from  under  the  tutelage  of  his  accomplished 
mother,  young  Wesley  became  at  the  Charterhouse  a 
sedate,  quiet,  and  industrious  pupil.  The  regularity  of 
system  which  characterized  the  man  was  even  then  visible 
in  the  boy,  taking  his  methodical  race  round  the  garden 
thrice  every  morning.  His  excellent  habits  were  rewarded 
by  the  esteem  of  his  masters,  and  his  election  six  years 
afterward  to  Christ's  Church  College,  Oxford.  At  the 
University  he  maintained  the  reputation  for  scholarship 
acquired  at  school,  and  ere  long  was  chosen  a  Fellow  of 
Lincoln,  and  appointed  Greek  Lecturer  and  Moderator  of 
the  Classes  to  the  University.  And  here  properly  begins 
the  religious  life  of  the  young  reformer.  Prior  to  his 
ordination,  which  took  place  in  1725,  he  had  devoted  him- 
self to  such  a  course  of  reading  as  he  considered  most 
likely  to  conduce  to  his  spiritual  benefit,  and  qualify  him 
for  his  sacred  office.  Upon  the  mind  of  one  so  religiously 


22  JOHN    WESLEY. 

and  orderly  brought  up,  the  Ascetic  Treatises  of  Thomas  a 
Kempis,  and  Taylor's  Holy  Living  cmd  Dying,  would 
naturally  make  a  deep  impression,  the  more  as  their  ear- 
nest strain  would  contrast  so  favourably  with  the  epicurean 
insouciance,  or  the  stolid  fatalism  of  his  classic  favourites. 
The  highest  effort  of  Pagan  heroism  and  philosophy  was 
to  invite  then-  dead  to  the  feast  and  orgie,  and  mock  at 
death  by  crowning  him  with  flowers,  while  of  all  the 
sublimer  objects  of  life  they  were  as  ignorant  as  to  its 
more  serious  duties  they  were  unequal.  Surfeited  with 
their  dainties  which  he  had  relished  as  a  child,  when  he 
became  a  man  he  put  away  childish  things  with  the  loath- 
ing of  a  matured  and  higher  taste.  Assistant  to  his  father 
for  two  years  in  the  adjacent  living  of  Wroote,  and 
engaged  thus  in  the  actualities  of  the  ministry,  his  soul 
found  more  and  more  occasion  for  self-examination,  self- 
renunciation,  and  devotion  to  the  solemn  work  of  his  call- 
ing. Impressions  deepened  upon  his  mind  which  could 
not  fail  to  issue  in  great  good  to  the  Church  of  Christ, 
impressions  made  by  his  temper  of  body,  early  training, 
and  the  studies  and  duties  of  his  vocation.  His  views 
were  very  imperfect  of  the  doctrines  of  grace,  but  his 
heart  was  undergoing  that  process  of  preparation  for  their 
full  disclosure  and  ready  reception  which  might  be  resem- 
bled to  turning  up  the  fallow  ground.  He  was  not  far 
from  the  kingdom  of  God.  "While  the  young  clergyman 
was  engaged  in  the  searchings  of  heart  attendant  upon  his 
early  experience,  and  was  prosecuting  the  labours  of  his 
country  cure,  God  was  maturing  at  Oxford  a  system  of 
events  which  was  to  issue  in  the  result  he  sought — light 
to  the  understanding,  peace  to  the  conscience,  purity  to 
the  life,  and  an  assured  sense  of  the  divine  forgiveness. 


JOHN     WESLEY.  23 

Charles  Wesley,  the  younger  brother,  during  John's  two 
years'  absence  on  his  cure,  seemed  to  have  waked  all  at 
once  from  the  religious  apathy  of  his  under-graduate 
course,  and  falling  in  with  two  or  three  young  men  of 
kindred  feelings  with  his  own,  they  associated  for  mutual 
improvement  and  religious  exercises.  They  received  the 
sacrament  weekly,  and  practised  certain  very  obvious  but 
very  unusual  austerities  in  regard  to  food,  raiment,  and 
amusements,  quite  sufficient  to  draw  upon  them  general 
observation.  The  world,  which  has  a  keen  sense  of  the 
ridiculous,  saw  in  all  this  only  oddity  and  folly,  and  in 
sooth  it  is  no  necessary  adjunct  of  real  religion — perhaps 
thought  it  something  still  less  worthy  of  respect — hypoc- 
risy, and  love  of  notoriety.  But  observers  could  have 
borne  even  with  these  defects  better  than  with  what  they 
found  in  the  enthusiastic  objects  of  their  dislike — earnest 
practical  godliness,  which  intimidation  could  not  daunt 
nor  ridicule  shame.  They  gave  these  parties,  therefore, 
the  names  of  Sacramentarians,  Bible-bigots,  Bible-moths, 
the  Holy,  and  the  Godly  Club.  But,  from  the  orderly 
method  of  their  life,  the  name  Methodists,  that  of  an 
ancient  sect  of  physicians,  gradually  stuck  to  the  latter 
party,  one  not  altogether  new  in  its  applications  to  religion 
any  more  than  the  Puritans  (Cathari)  of  an  earlier  date. 
This  title  they  neither  sought  nor  shunned.  If  it  gave  no 
glory,  it  implied  little  reproach.  But  they  justified  their 
religious  views  by  the  practical  value  of  their  measures. 
They  could  appeal  to  their  works  as  their  best  vindication. 
Their  acquittal  were  triumphant  were  the  tree  of  their 
profession  judged  by  its  fruits.  We  know  not  where,  out 
of  the  Gospels,  a  more  successful  appeal  is  made  in  favour 
of  practical  godliness,  the  religion  of  good  sense  and  good 


24:  JOHN    WESLEY. 

works,  than  in  the  document  we  are  about  to  submit  to  our 
readers.  Never  was  there  less  enthusiasm,  fanaticism, 
rant,  (O  si  sic  omnia  /)  in  any  page  of  letter-press—never 
more  convincing  ratiocination,  more  clear  exposition  of 
duty,  than  in  its  dozen  quiet  interrogations. 

"  Whether  it  does  not  concern  all  men,  of  all  conditions, 
to  imitate  Him,  as  much  as  they  can,  who  went  about 
doing  good? 

"  "Whether  all  Christians  are  not  concerned  in  that  com- 
mand, "While  we  have  time  let  us  do  good  unto  all  men, 
especially  to  those  who  are  of  the  household  of  faith  ? 

""Whether  we  shall  not  be  more  happy  hereafter  the 
more  good  we  do  now? 

""Whether  we  may  not  try  to  do  good  to  our  acquaint- 
ance among  the  young  gentlemen  of  the  university  ? 

"Particularly  whether  we  may  not  endeavour  to  con- 
vince them  of  the  necessity  of  being  Christians  and  of 
being  scholars? 

"  May  we  not  try  to  do  good  to  those  that  are  hungry, 
or  naked,  or  sick?  If  we  know  any  necessitous  family, 
may  we  not  give  them  a  little  food,  clothes,  or  physic,  as 
they  want  ? 

"  If  they  can  read,  may  we  not  give  them  a  Bible  or 
a  Prayer-Book,  or  a  Whole  Duty  of  Man?  May  we 
not  inquire  now  and  then  how  they  have  used  them, 
explain  what  they  do  not  understand,  and  enforce  what 
they  do  ? 

"May  we  not  enforce  upon  them  the  necessity  of 
private  prayer,  and  of  frequenting  the  church  and  sac- 
rament ? 

"May  we  not  contribute  what  we  are  able  toward 
having  their  children  clothed  and  taught  to  read  ? 


JOHN    WESLEY.  25 

"May  we  not  try  to  do  good  to  those  who  are  in  prison? 

"May  we  not  release  such  well  disposed  persons  as 
remain  in  prison  for  small  debts? 

"May  we  not  lend  small  sums  of  money  to  those  who 
are  of  any  trade,  that  they  may  procure  themselves  tools 
and  materials  to  work  with? 

"  May  we  not  give  to  them  who  appear  to  want  it  most 
a  little  money,  or  clothes,  or  physic?" 

Such  is  their  apology — a  probe  for  the  conscience,  which 
searches  the  latent  wound,  but  only  searches  to  heal — a 
promptuary  of  every  good  word  and  work — a  brief  but 
weighty  preface  to  a  life  of  labour  and  of  love — a  whole 
library  of  folio  divinity  in  small — the  casuistry  of  an 
honest  and  good  heart  resolved  in  a  handful  of  questions 
— the  law  that  came  by  Moses,  clothed  in  the  inimitable 
grace  and  truth  that  came  by  Jesus  Christ — a  most  Holy 
Inquisition  of  which  no  brotherhood  need  be  ashamed — 
the  beatitudes  of  our  Lord  charged  home,  and  chambered 
in  the  heart  by  the  impulse  of  an  earnest  query — a  thema 
con  vwiasione,  making  melody  in  the  heart  unto  the  Lord 
while  breathing  deep-toned  benevolence  toward  man.  If 
ever  Church  originated  in  an  unexceptionable  source  it 
was  this.  If  ever  one  could  challenge  its  foundation  as 
resting  on  the  apostles  and  prophets,  Jesus  Christ  himself 
being  the  chief  corner-stone,  it  was  this.  If  ever  Church 
was  cradled,  as  its  Lord  was  cradled,  in  supreme  glory  to 
God  and  good  will  to  man — if  ever  Church  at  its  birth 
was  an  incarnation  of  the  first  and  chief  commandment, 
charity,  the  sum  and  end  of  the  law,  it  was  this  Church. 
This  is  more  than  can  be  said  of  any  of  the  great  moral 
revolutions  of  the  world.  Almost  all  the  more  remarka- 
ble changes  in  human  opinion,  the  truths  as  well  as  the 


26  JOHN    WESLEY. 

errors,  have  been  mixed  with  a  considerable  alloy  of 
human  infirmity  in  their  origin  and  conduct.  Envy  and 
selfishness,  and  pride  and  ambition,  have  shown  themselves 
in  various  degrees,  as  moving  powers  in  the  world  of 
thought  and  religion,  and  though  the  results  under  divine 
superintendence  have  been  overruled  to  good,  the  process 
has  been  faulty.  "We  cannot  say,  for  we  do  not  believe, 
that  there  was  not  much  of  human  passion  at  the  bottom 
of  the  indignant  Luther's  breach  with  Some,  while  ingen- 
uous Protestantism  must  blush  over  the  sensuality  and 
cruelty  of  Henry  YIIE.  Even  the  self-denying  non-con- 
formists do  not  show  so  bright,  when  we  reflect  that  the 
majority  of  them,  in  closing  their  ministry  in  the  Church 
on  St.  Bartholomew's  day,  did  never  perhaps  belong  to 
what  is  popularly  called  the  Church  of  England,  nor 
object  so  much  to  the  imposition  of  a  particular  prayer- 
book,  as  to  any  prayer-book  at  all,  being  in  fact  Presby- 
terians and  Independents.  But  here,  alike  free  from  the 
infirmities  of  Aletharch,  or  Heresiarch,  free  from  selfish 
aim  or  end,  unfraught  with  doctrinal  pride,  uninflated  by 
youthful  presumption,  a  few  good  men  go  forth,  a  second 
college  of  apostles,  ordained  with  a  like  ordination,  having 
the  unction  of  the  Holy  One,  and  charged  with  the  same 
divine  mission,  "  to  seek  and  to  save  that  which  was  lost," 
freely  receiving  from  heaven,  and  freely  giving  in  return. 
Language  and  imagery  would  fail  us  in  depicting  sooner 
than  our  soul  cease  from  admiring  the  purity  and  sub- 
limity of  the  object  these  compassionate  men  sought  by 
their  personal  consecration,  their  visits  of  mercy,  and 
their  prayers: — 

"  I  can't  describe  it  though  so  much  it  strike, 
Nor  liken  it — I  never  saw  the  like." 


JOHN    WESLEY. 


Looking  down,  like  the  divine  humanity  of  the  Son  of 
God  from  the  height  of  his  priestly  throne,  far  above 
every  feeling  save  that  of  sorrow  for  the  sufferings  and 
sins  of  men,  their  eyes  suffused  with  pitiful  tears,  and  they 
resolved  to  do  what  they  could.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that, 
baptized  in  such  a  laver  as  this,  the  Methodist  Church, 
which  has  since  attained  a  respectable  maturity,  has  never 
renounced  the  principles  that  hallowed  its  early  dedica- 
tion,— has  kept  the  whiteness  of  its  garments  unsullied  by 
the  pollutions  of  the  world, — has  raised  visibly  everywhere 
the  banner  of  mercy  to  the  bodies  and  souls  of  men,  and 
can  say  still,  as  it  professed  then,  "I  am  free  from  the 
blood  of  all  men." 

John  Wesley  will  be  found  to  have  given  currency  by 
his  course  of  action  to  a  set  of  divine  ideas  easily  acted 
upon,  but  not  always  clearly  apprehended,  which  make 
up  the  sum  of  personal  religion,  and  without  which,  it 
may  be  added,  personal  religion  cannot  exist.  This  is  the 
philosophy  of  his  career,  perhaps  very  imperfectly  under- 
stood by  himself,  probably  never  drawn  out  by  him  in  a 
systematic  form,  yet  sufficiently  obvious  to  us  who  look 
back  upon  his  completed  life,  and  live  amid  the  results  of 
his  labours.  Immersed  in  the  complexities  of  the  game, 
the  turmoil  of  the  storm  in  which  his  busy  life  was  cast, 
the  unceasing  struggle  of  his  soul  with  the  gigantic  evils 
of  the  world,  he  could  neither  observe  nor  analyze,  as  we 
can  do,  the  elements  arrayed  against  him,  nor  the  princi- 
ples evolved  in  the  conflict  that  were  ministrant  to  his 
success.  As  we  are  in  the  habit  of  raising  instinctively 
the  arm,  or  lowering  the  eyelid  to  repel  or  shun  danger, 
so  he  adopted  measures  and  evolved  truths  by  force  of 
circumstances  more  than  by  forethought,  those  truths  and 


28  JOHN    WESLEY. 

measures  so  adapted  to  his  position  as  a  preacher  of  right- 
eousness amid  an  opposing  generation,  that  we  recognise 
in  their  adaptation  and  natural  evolution  proof  of  their 
divineness.  They  are  the  same  truths  which  were  exhib- 
ited in  the  first  struggles  of  an  infant  Christianity  with 
the  serpent  of  Paganism,  and  when  exhibited  again  upon 
a  like  arena  seventeen  centuries  afterward,  with  similar 
success,  are  thus  proved  to  be  everywhere  and  always  the 
same,  eternal  as  abstract  truth,  and  essential  as  the  exist- 
ence of  God. 

The  first  grand  truth  thrown  up  upon  the  surface  of 
John  Wesley's  career,  we  take  to  be  the  absolute  necessity 
of  personal  and  individual  religion. 

To  the  yoke  of  this  necessity  he  himself  bowed  at  every 
period  of  his  history :  never  even  when  most  completely 
led  astray  as  to  the  ground  of  the  sinner's  justification 
before  God,  did  he  fail  to  recognise  the  necessity  of  con- 
version and  individual  subjection  to  the  laws  of  the  Most 
High.  "What  he  required  of  others,  and  constantly  taught, 
he  cheerfully  observed  himself.  Yery  soon  after  starting 
upon  his  course  did  he  learn  that  the  laver  of  baptism  was 
unavailing  to  wash  from  the  stain  of  human  defilement, 
the  supper  of  the  Lord  to  secure  admission  to  the  marriage 
supper  of  the  Lamb,  and  Church  organization  to  draft  men 
collectively  to  heaven  by  simple  virtue  of  its  corporate 
existence.  These  delusions,  whereby  souls  are  beguiled  to 
their  eternal  wrong,  soon  ceased  to  juggle  him,  for  his  eye, 
kindled  to  intelligence  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  pierced  the 
transparent  cheat.  He  ascertained  at  a  very  early  period 
that  the  Church  had  no  delegated  power  to  ticket  men  in 
companies  for  a  celestial  journey,  and  sweep  them  rail- 
road-wise in  multitudes  to  their  goal;  consequently  that 


JOHN    WESLEY.  29 

this  power,  where  claimed  or  conceded,  was  usurpation  on 
the  one  hand,  and  a  compound  of  credulousness  and  ser- 
vility on  the  other,  insulting  to  God  and  degrading  to  man. 
But  he  began  with  himself.  We  suppose  he  never  knew 
the  hour  in  which  he  did  not  feel  the  need  of  personal 
religion  to  secure  the  salvation  of  the  soul.  He  was  hap- 
pily circumstanced  in  being  the  son  of  pious  and  intelli- 
gent parents,  who  would  carefully  guard  him  against  the 
prevalent  errors  on  these  points.  He  never  could  have 
believed  presentation  at  the  font  to  be  salvation,  nor  the 
vicarious  vow  of  sponsors  a  substitute  for  personal  renun- 
ciation of  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil:  and  he 
early  showed  this.  When  the  time  of  his  ordination  drew 
nigh,  and  he  was  about  to  be  inducted  into  the  cure  of 
souls,  he  was  visited  with  great  searchings  of  heart.  His 
views  of  the  mode  of  the  sinner's  acceptance  with  God 
were  confused  indeed ;  but  on  the  subject  of  personal  con- 
secration they  may  be  said  never  to  have  varied.  Fight- 
ing his  way,  as  he  was  called  to  do,  through  a  lengthened 
period  of  experimental  obscurity,  "  working  out  his  salva- 
tion with  fear  and  trembling,"  we  nevertheless  cannot 
point  to  any  moment  in  his  spiritual  history  in  which  he 
was  not  a  child  of  God.  What  an  incomparable  mother 
must  he  have  had !  what  a  hold  must  she  have  established 
upon  his  esteem  and  confidence,  to  whom  this  fellow  of  a 
college  referred  his  scruples  and  diificulties  in  view  of  his 
ordination,  and  whom  his  scholarly  father  bade  him  con- 
sult when  his  own  studious  habits  and  abundant  occupa- 
tions forbade  correspondence  with  himself!  Animated  to 
religious  feeling  about  this  time,  he  made  a  surrender  of 
himself  to  God,  made  in  partial  ignorance,  but  never 
revoked.  "  I  resolved,"  he  says,  "  to  dedicate  all  my  life 


30  JOHN    WESLEY. 

to  .God,  all  my  thoughts,  and  words,  and  actions ;  being 
thoroughly  convinced  there  was  no  medium;  but  that 
every  pa/rt  of  my  life  (not  some  only)  must  either  be  a 
sacrifice  to  God  or  myself, — that  is,  in  effect,  to  the  devil." 
And  his  pious  father,  seconding  his  son's  resolve,  replies : 
"  God  fit  you  for  your  great  work !  fast,  watch,  and  pray ! 
believe,  love,  endure,  and  be  happy!"  And  so  he  did 
according  to  his  knowledge,  for  a  more  conscientious  cler- 
gyman and  teacher,  for  the  space  of  ten  years,  never  lived 
than  the  Rev.  John  Wesley,  fellow  and  tutor  of  Lincoln. 
But  there  was  a  whole  world  of  spiritual  experience  yet 
untrodden  by  him  amid  the  round  of  his  college  duties, 
ascetic  practices,  and  abounding  charities.  His  heart  told 
him,  and  books  told  him,  and  the  little  godly  company  who 
met  in  his  rooms  all  told  him,  in  tones  more  or  less  distinct, 
that  he  had  not  yet  attained — that  he  was  still  short  of  the 
mark — that  the  joys  of  religion  escaped  his  reach,  though 
its  duties  were  unexceptionably  performed.  His  course  of 
reading,  the  mystic  and  ascetic  writers,  together  with  the 
dry*  scholastic  divinity  that  furnishes  the  understanding 
but  often  drains  the  heart,  tended  to  this  result,  to  fill  the 
life  with  holy  exercises  rather  than  to  overflow  the  soul 
with  sacred  pleasure.  Of  the  simple,  ardent,  gladsome, 
gracious  piety  of  the  poor,  he  yet  knew  next  to  nothing. 

0  Our  censure  of  the  scholastic  divinity  only  reaches  to  the  case  in  hand, 
as  among  our  favourite  authors  we  reckon  Thomas  Aquinas,  and  the 
Master  of  the  Sentences.  We  are  glad  to  be  able  to  justify  our  partiality 
by  such  respectable  authority  as  that  of  Luther.  In  his  book  De  Conciliis, 
(torn,  vii,  p.  237,)  he  writes  thus  of  Peter  Lombard: — "Nullis  in  conciliis, 
nullo  in  patre  tantum  reperies,  quam  in  libro  sententiarum  Lombardi. 
Nam  patres  et  concilia  quosdam  tantum  articulos  tractant,  Lombardua 
autem  omnes;  sed  in  prsecipuis  illis  articulis  de  Fide  et  Justificatione 
nimis  est  jejunus,  quanquam  Dei  gratiam  magnopere  praedicat." 


JOHN    WESLEY.  31 

But  God  was  leading  him  through  the  wilderness  of  such 
an  experience  as  this  by  a  right  way  to  a  city  of  habita- 
tion, doubtless  that  he  might  be  a  wise  instructor  to  others 
who  should  be  involved  hereafter  in  mazes  like  his  own. 
He  looked  upon  religion  as  a  debt  due  by  the  creature  to 
the  Creator,  and  he  paid  it  with  the  same  sense  of  con- 
straint with  which  one  pays  a  debt,  instead  of  regarding  it 
as  the  ready  service  of  a  child  of  God.  A  child  of  God 
could  not  be  other  than  religious ;  but,  more  than  this,  he 
would  not  if  he  could ;  religion  is  his 

"  vital  breath, 
It  is  his  native  air." 

But  Wesley  did  not  understand  as  yet  the  doctrine  of  free 
pardon,  the  new  birth,  and  the  life  of  faith :  he  therefore 
worked,  conscientiously  and  laboriously  indeed,  but  like  a 
slave  in  chains.  But  he  was  not  too  proud  to  learn  from 
very  humble  teachers,  a  few  Moravian  emigrants  that 
sailed  in  the  same  vessel  with  him  to  Georgia.  Their 
unaffected  humility,  unruffled  good  temper,  and  serenest 
self-possession  in  prospect  of  death  when  storms  overtook 
the  ship,  struck  him  forcibly,  and  made  him  feel  that  they 
had  reached  an  eminence  in  the  divine  life  on  which  his 
college  studies,  extensive  erudition,  and  pains-taking  devo- 
tion had  failed  to  land  himself.  He  therefore  sat  himself 
at  their  feet;  he  verified  the  Scripture  metaphor,  and 
became  "  a  little  child."  In  nothing  was  the  lofty  wisdom 
of  John  Wesley  and  his  submission  to  divine  teaching 
more  apparent  than  in  this,  that  he  made  himself  a  fool 
that  he  might  be  wise.  Salvation  by  grace,  and  the  wit- 
ness of  the  Spirit,  were  taught  him  by  these  God-fearing 
and  happy  Moravians ;  and  his  understanding  became  full 


32  JOHN    WESLEY. 

of  light.  It  was  only,  however,  some  three  years  after- 
ward, subsequent  to  his  return  to  England,  that  the  joy  of 
this  free,  present,  eternal  salvation  flowed  in  upon  his  soul. 
The  peace  of  God  which  passeth  all  understanding  took 
possession  of  heart  and  mind  through  Christ  Jesus,  and 
for  fifty  years  afterward  he  never  doubted,  he  never 
could  doubt,  of  his  acceptance  with  our  Father  who  is  in 
heaven.  The  sunshine  of  his  soul  communicated  itself 
to  his  countenance,  and  lighted  all  his  conversation.  To 
speak  with  him  was  to  speak  with  an  angel  of  God. 

From  that  time  he  began  to  preach  a  new  doctrine,  a 
doctrine  of  privilege  as  well  as  duty,  of  acceptance  through 
the  Beloved,  and  assured  sense  of  pardon,  and  the  happi- 
ness of  the  service  of  God.  And  God  gave  him  unlooked 
for,  unhoped  for  success.  Excluded  by  almost  universal 
consent  from  the  churches  of  the  Establishment,  he  betook 
himself  to  barns,  and  stable-yards,  and  inn  rooms;  and 
ultimately,  with  Whitefield,  to  the  open  air,  in  the  streets 
and  lanes  of  the  city,  in  the  hills  and  valleys,  on  the  com- 
mons and  heaths,  and  with  power  and  unction,  with  the 
Holy  Ghost  and  much  assurance  did  he  testify  to  each  of 
his  hearers  the  doctrine  of  personal  repentance  and  faith, — 
the  necessity  of  the  new  birth  for  the  salvation  of  the  soul. 
And  signs  and  wonders  followed  in  them  that  believed : 
multitudes  were  smitten  to  the  ground  under  the  sword 
of  the  Spirit;  many  a  congregation  was  changed  into  a 
Bochim,  a  place  of  weeping;  and  amid  sobs,  and  tears, 
and  waitings,  beneath  which  the  hearts  of  the  most  stub- 
born sinners  quailed,  one  universal  cry  arose,  "What 
must  we  do  to  be  saved?"  John  "Wesley's  divine  simple 
Scriptural  answer  was,  "  Believe  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
and  thou  shalt  be  saved." 


JOHN    WESLEY.  33 

His  personal  experience  of  the  efficacy  of  the  prescrip- 
tion gave  confidence  to  his  advice.  The  physician  had 
been  healed  himself  first:  he  had  been  his  own  earliest 
patient :  he  knew  the  bitterness  of  the  pain,  the  virulence 
of  the  disease,  and  he  had  proved  the  sanative  power  of 
\  his  remedy.  The  ordeal  of  the  new  birth  he  had  tried 
before  he  recommended  it  to  others.  He  had  visited  the 
pool  of  Bethesda,  and  could  therefore  speak  well  of  its 
waters. 

And  well  might  it  work  such  change  to  have  the  neces- 
sity of  personal  religion  insisted  upon  with  such  unprece- 
dented particularity  and  pointedness.  He  singled  out  each 
hearer;  he  allowed  no  evasion  amid  the  multitude;  he 
showed  how  salvation  was  not  by  a  Church,  nor  by  fami- 
lies, nor  by  ministers,  nor  by  ordinances,  nor  by  national 
communions,  but  by  a  deep  singular  individual  experience 
of  religion  in  the  soul.  His  address  was  framed  upon  the 
model  of  the  Scripture  query,  "Dost  thou  believe  upon 
the  Son  of  God?" 

A  second  truth  developed  in  the  ministry  of  John  Wes- 
ley, is  the  absolute  need  of  spiritual  influence  to  secure  the 
conversion  of  the  soul.  Conversion  is  not  a  question  of 
willing  or  not  willing  on  the  part  of  man :  the  soul  bears 
no  resemblance  to  the  muscles  of  the  healthy  arm,  which 
the  mere  will  to  straighten  and  stiffen  throws  into  a  state 
of  rigid  tension  at  the  instant,  and  retains  them  so  at 
pleasure.  The  soul  is  in  the  craze  and  wreck  of  paralysis : 
the  power  of  action  does  not  respond  to  the  will:  the 
whole  head  is  sick,  the  heart  faint.  To  will  is  present 
with  us,  but  how  to  perform  that  which  is  good  we  know 
not.  The  sick  man  would  be  well,  but  the  wish  is  unavail- 
ing till  the  simple,  the  leech,  and  the  blessing  of  the  Most 

3 


34  JOHN    WESLEY. 

High  conspire,  to  invigorate.  Just  so  is  it  with  the  soul ; 
it  must  tarry  till  it  be  endued  with  power  from  on  high, 
but  not,  be  it  understood,  in  the  torpor  of  apathy,  nor  in 
the  slough  of  despair ;  no,  but  wishing,  watching,  waiting. 
Though  its  search  were  as  fruitless  as  that  of  Diogenes,  it 
must  be  seeking  nevertheless,  just  as,  though  the  prophet's 
commission  be  to  preach  to  the  dead,  he  must  not  dispute 
nor  disobey.  We  must  strive  to  enter  in  although  the 
gate  be  strait  and  the  way  narrow:  we  must  be  feeling 
after  God,  if  haply  we  may  find  him,  though  it  be  amid 
the  darkness  of  nature  and  the  tremblings  of  dismay.  We 
may  scarce  have  ability  to  repent  after  a  godly  sort,  yet 
ought  we  to  bring  forth  "fruits  meet  for  repentance." 
With  God  alone  may  rest  the  prerogative  to  pronounce  us 
"  sons  of  Abraham,"  yet,  like  Zaccheus,  must  we  work  the 
works  becoming  that  relation,  and  right  the  wronged  and 
feed  the  poor.  While,  then,  we  emphatically  announce 
the  doctrine  that  the  influence  of  the  Holy  Ghost  is  neces- 
sary to  quicken,  renew,  and  purify  the  soul,  we  do  at  the 
same  time  repudiate  the  principle  that  man  may  fold  his 
hands  in  sleep  till  the  divine  voice  arouse  him.  Nothing 
short  of  a  celestial  spark  can  ignite  the  fire  of  our  sacri- 
fice, but  we  can  at  least  lay  the  wood  upon  the  altar. 
None  but  the  Lord  of  the  kingdom  can  admit  to  the 
privilege  of  the  kingdom,  but  at  the  same  time  it  is  well 
to  make  inquiry  of  him  who  keeps  the  door.  John  was 
only  the  bridegroom's  friend,  the  herald  of  better  things 
to  come;  yet  "Jerusalem  and  all  Judea,  and  all  the 
region  round  about  Jordan,"  did  but  its  duty  in  flocking 
to  him  to  hear  his  tidings,  and  learn  where  to  direct  its 
homage.  To  endangered  men  the  night  was  given  for  far 
other  uses  than  for  sleep :  the  storm  is  high  and  the  rocks 


JOHN    WESLEY.  35 

are  near,  the  sails  are  rent,  and  the  planks  are  starting 
beneath  the  fury  of  the  winds  and  waves, — what  is  the 
dictate  of  wisdom,  of  imperious  necessity?  what  but  to 
ply  the  pump,  to  undergird  the  ship,  to  strike  the  mast, 
haul  taut  the  cordage,  "strengthen  the  things  that  remain," 
and  trust  in  the  Most  High.  If  safety  is  vouchsafed,  it  is 
God  who  saves.  So  in  spiritual  things  man  must  strive  as 
if  he  could  do  everything,  and  trust  as  if  he  could  do 
nothing ;  and  in  regeneration  the  Scripture  doctrine  is  that 
he  can  do  nothing.  He  may  accomplish  things  leading 
thereto,  just  as  the  Jews  ministered  to  the  resurrection  of 
Lazarus  by  leading  Christ  to  the  sepulchre ;  but  it  was  the 
divine  voice  that  raised  the  dead.  Thus  sermons,  Scrip- 
tures, catechisms,  and  all  the  machinery  of  Christian 
action,  will  be  tried  and  used,  dealt  out  by  the  minister 
and  shared  by  his  flock ;  but  with  each  and  all  must  the 
conviction  rest  that  it  is  not  by  might  of  mechanism,  nor 
by  power  of  persuasion  conversion  is  brought  about,  but 
by  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  of  hosts. 

This  truth  was  grievously  lost  sight  of  in  Wesley's  days, 
sunk  in  the  tide  of  cold  morality  that  inundated  the  land 
and  consigned  it  to  a  theosophy  less  spiritual  than  that  of 
Socrates  or  Plato.  But  up  from  the  depths  of  the  heathen- 
ish flood  our  great  reformer  fished  this  imperishable  truth, 
a  treasure-trove  exceeding  in  value  pearls  of  great  price, 
or  a  navy  of  sunken  galleons.  And  through  his  ministry 
this  shone  with  unequalled  light,  for  if  anything  distin- 
guished it  more  than  another  from  contemporary  minis- 
tries, it  was  the  emphatic  prominence  it  assigned  to  the 
Spirit's  work  in  conversion.  This  was  the  Pharos  of  his 
teaching,  the  luminous  point  which  led  the  world-lost  soul 
into  the  haven  of  assured  peace  and  conscious  adoption. 


36  JOHN    WESLEY. 

And  much  need  was  there  that  this  dogma  should  have 
received  this  distinctive  preeminence  and  peculiar  honour, 
for  it  was  either  totally  forgotten,  coarsely  travestied,  or 
boldly  denied. 

Having  now  dealt  with  the  truths  that  bear  upon  per- 
sonal religion  and  individual  subjection  to  the  truth,  as 
well  as  the  means  whereby  this  was  to  be  effected — the 
direct  agency  of  the  Divine  Spirit,  things  insisted  upon 
with  untiring  energy  by  John  Wesley — we  now  turn  atten- 
tion to  the  views  which  our  great  reformer  put  forth 
regarding  Christians  in  their  associated  capacity.  He 
knew  full  well,  none  better  than  he,  that  the  individual 
believer  is  not  a  unit,  an  isolation,  a  monad,  complete  in 
his  own  sufficiency,  spinning  round  himself  like  a  top  upon 
its  peg,  rejoicing  in  the  music  of  its  complacent  hum ;  no, 
but  a  joint  in  a  system,  a  member  of  a  body,  a  fraction  of 
a  whole,  a  segment  of  an  orb,  which,  incomplete  without 
its  parts,  becomes  only  by  their  adhesion  terse  and  rotund. 
Every  portion  of  the  Christian  community,  like  every  por- 
tion of  the  body  politic,  is  related  to  every  other  portion. 
When  a  man  becomes  a  Christian  he  is  inducted  into  a 
fraternity,  made  free  of  a  sodality  and  guild,  with  the 
interests  of  which  he  becomes  so  intimately  bound  up 
that  his  pulse  dances  in  its  health  and  languishes  in  its 
decay.  The  figure  of  Scripture  becomes  experimental 
truth:  "Whether  one  member  suffer,  all  the  members 
suffer  with  it ;  or  one  member  be  honoured,  all  the  mem- 
bers rejoice  with  it."  1  Cor.  xii,  26.  He  is  disjoined  from 
his  former  association  with  worldly  men ;  the  bad  blood  of 
his  unconverted  alliances  is  drawn  off  and  that  of  a  new 
fellowship  infused,  and  he  becomes  a  member  of  its  body, 
of  its  flesh,  and  of  its  bones.  A  homogeneity  is  established 


JOHN    WESLEY.  ,         61 

between  himself  and  all  the  other  parts  of  this  spiritual 
incorporation;  and  while  in  matters  of  faith,  obedience, 
and  personal  responsibility  he  retains  his  individual  man- 
hood, in  all  that  affects  the  fortunes  and  duties  of  the 
Church  he  thrills  with  a  quick  sympathy  as  the  remotest 
nerve  will  with  the  brain.  And  this  corporate  life  he  only 
lives,  enjoys  its  advantages,  and  answers  its  ends,  while  he 
lives  in  conjunction,  in  observance  of  divine  ordinances 
and  visible  worship,  with  men  like-minded  with  himself, 
the  regenerate  sons  of  God.  For  developing  this  feature 
of  the  Christian  life  Wesley  made  provision  in  the 
arrangements  of  his  system,  and  this  he  did  by  promi- 
nently recognising  this  further  third  principle,  namely : — 

That  the  Church  of  Jesus  Christ  is  a  spiritual  organiza- 
tion consisting  of  spiritual  men  associated  for  spiritual 
purposes. 

This  is  the  theory  of  that  Church  of  which  he  was  for 
several  years  the  laborious  and  conscientious  minister,  and 
is  nowhere  more  happily  expressed  than  in  its  nineteenth 
article : — "  The  visible  Church  of  Christ  is  a  congregation 
of  faithful  men  in  the  which  the  pure  word  of  God  is 
preached  and  the  sacraments  duly  administered  accord- 
ing to  Christ's  ordinance  in  all  those  things  that  of  neces- 
sity are  requisite  to  the  same."  But  this  beautiful  and 
Scriptural  theory  was,  to  a  great  degree,  an  unapproacha- 
ble ideal  in  this  country  until  that  system  arose,  under  the 
creative  hand  of  "Wesley,  which  made  it  a  reality  and 
gave  it  a  positive  existence,  "a  local  habitation  and  a 
name."  It  is  true  the  name  he  gave  it  was  not  Church,  it 
was  The  Society,  and  in  other  forms  and  subdivisions, 
bands,  classes,  &c.,  but  in  essence  it  was  the  same;  it 
was  the  union  and  communion  of  the  Lord's  people  for 


38  JOHN    WESLEY. 

common  edification  and  the  glory  of  Christ.  As  soon  as 
two  or  three  converts  were  made  to  those  earnest  personal 
views  of  religion  he  promulgated,  the  inclination  and 
necessity  for  association  commenced.  It  was  seen  in  his 
Oxford  praying  coterie;  seen  in  his  fellowship  with  the 
Moravians;  and  afterward  fully  exemplified  in  the  mother 
society  at  the  Foundry,  Moorfields,  and  in  all  the  affiliated 
societies  throughout  the  kingdom.  The  simple  object  of 
these  associations  was  thus  explained  in  a  set  of  general 
rules  for  their  governance,  published  by  the  brothers  Wes- 
ley in  1743.  The  preamble  states  the  nature  and  design 
of  a  Methodist  Society  to  be  "  a  company  of  men  having 
the  form  and  seeking  the  power  of  godliness;  united  in 
order  to  pray  together,  to  receive  the  word  of  exhortation, 
and  to  watch  over  one  another  in  love,  that  they  may  help 
each  other  to  work  out  their  salvation.  There  is  only  one 
condition  previously  required  of  those  who  desire  admis- 
sion into  these  societies — a  desire  to  flee  from  the  wrath  to 
come,  and  to  be  saved  from  their  sins."  They  were  further 
to  evidence  this  desire : — "  1.  By  doing  no  harm,  by  avoid- 
ing evil  of  every  kind.  2.  By  doing  good,  by  being  in 
every  kind  merciful  after  their  power;  as  they  have 
opportunity,  doing  good  of  every  possible  sort,  and,  as  far 
as  possible,  to  all  men.  And,  3.  By  attending  upon  all 
the  ordinances  of  God.  Such  are  the  public  worship  of 
God ;  the  ministry  of  the  word,  either  read  or  expounded ; 
the  supper  of  the  Lord ;  family  and  private  prayer ;  search- 
ing the  Scriptures ;  and  fasting  or  abstinence."  Whether 
we  regard  the  design  of  association  given  in  these  terms, 
or  the  specification  of  duty,  we  seem  to  trace  a  virtual 
copy  of  the  articular  definition  of  the  Church  recently 
cited.  Wesley  never  failed  to  recognise  the  Scriptural 


JOHN     WE6LEY.  39 

distinction  between  the  Church  and  the  world,  nor  to 
mark  it.  While  he  viewed  with  becoming  deference  the 
kingdoms  of  this  world,  and  bowed  to  the  authority  of 
the  magistrate  as  the  great  cement  of  human  society,  the 
clamp  that  binds  the  stones  of  the  edifice  together,  he  saw 
another  kingdom  pitched  within  the  borders  of  these, 
diifering  from  them  in  everything  and  infinitely  above 
them,  yet  consentaneous  with  them,  and  vesting  them 
with  its  sanction,  itself  all  the  while  purely  spiritual  in 
its  basis,  laws,  privileges,  and  sovereign.  Blind  must  he 
have  been  to  a  degree  incompatible  with  his  general  per- 
spicacity, had  he  not  perceived  this.  The  men  who  pos- 
sessed religion,  and  the  men  who  possessed  it  not,  were 
not  to  be  for  a  moment  confounded.  They  might  be 
neighbours  in  locality  and  friends  in  good-will ;  but  they 
were  wide  as  the  poles  asunder  in  sentiment.  The  quick 
and  the  dead  may  be  placed  side  by  side,  but  no  one  can 
for  ever  so  short  a  period  mistake  dead  flesh  for  living 
fibre,  the  abnegation  of  power  for  energy  in  repose.  The 
church  and  the  churchyard  are  close  by ;  but  the  worship- 
pers in  the  one  and  the  dwellers  in  the  other  are  as  unlike 
as  two  worlds  can  make  them.  The  circle  within  the 
circle,  the  company  of  the  converted,  the  imperium  in 
im/perio,  the  elect,  the  regenerate,  Wesley  always  distin- 
guished from  the  mass  of  mankind,  and  made  special 
provision  for  their  edification  in  all  his  organisms. 

And  in  sooth  the  marked  and  constant  recognition  of 
this  spiritual  incorporation  it  is  which  gives  revealed 
religion  its  only  chance  of  survival  in  the  world.  To 
forget  it  is  practically  to  abolish  the  distinction  between 
error  and  truth,  between  right  and  wrong.  There  is  no 
heresy  more  destructive  than  a  bad  life.  To  class  the  man 


4:0  JOHN    WESLEY. 

of  good  life  and  the  man  of  bad  together, — to  call  them  by 
the  same  name  and  elevate  them  to  the  same  standing,  is 
high  treason  against  the  majesty  of  truth,  poisons  the  very 
spring  of  morality,  and  does  conscience  to  death.  A 
nation  cannot  be  a  Church,  nor  a  Church  a  nation.  The 
case  of  Israel  was  the  only  one  in  which  the  two  king- 
doms were  coextensive,  conterminous.  A  member  of  a 
nation  a  man  becomes  by  birth,  but  a  member  of  a  Church 
only  by  a  second  birth.  Generation  is  his  title  to  the  one, 
regeneration  to  the  other.  The  one  is  a  natural  accident, 
the  other  a  moral  state.  Citizens  are  the  sons  of  the  soil, 
Christians  are  the  sons  of  heaven.  To  clothe,  then,  the 
members  of  the  one  with  the  livery  and  title  of  the  other 
without  the  prerequisite  qualification  and  dignity,  is  not 
only  a  solecism  in  language,  but  an  outrage  upon  truth. 
It  is  to  reconcile  opposites,  harmonize  discords,  blend  dis- 
similitudes, and  identify  tares  with  wheat,  light  with  dark- 
ness, life  with  death.  It  is  the  destruction  of  piety  among 
the  converted,  for  they  see  the  unconverted  honoured  with 
their  designation,  advanced  to  their  level,  obtruded  upon 
their  society.  It  is  ruin  to  the  souls  of  the  unconverted, 
because  without  effort  of  their  own,  without  faith,  or 
prayer,  or  good  works,  or  reformation,  or  morals,  they  are 
surprised  with  the  style  and  title,  the  status  and  rewards 
of  Christian  men.  This  is  unfortunately  the  practice  on  a 
large  scale ;  the  theory  is  otherwise  and  unexceptionable. 
Imbued  with  a  deep  sense  of  the  beauty  and  correctness 
of  the  theory,  Wesley  did  only  what  was  natural  and 
right. when  he  sought  to  make  it  a  great  fact — a  substance 
and  not  a  shadow — in  the  Church  militant.  In  this  he 
not  only  obeyed  a  divine  injunction,  but  yielded  to  the 
current  of  events.  By  a  natural  attraction  his  converts 


JOHN    WESLEY.  41 

were  drawn  together.  Like  will  to  like.  "They  that 
feared  the  Lord  spake  often  one  to  another;"  and  "all 
that  believed  were  together."  The  particles  were  similar, 
the  aggregate  homogeneous.  They  had  gone  through  the 
same  throes,  rejoiced  in  the  same  parentage,  learned  in 
the  same  school,  and  embraced  the  same  destiny.  They 
owned  a  common  creed, "  one  Lord,  one  faith,  one  baptism, 
one  God  and  Father  of  all ;"  resisted  a  common  tempta- 
tion, took  up  a  common  cross,  and  in  common  renounced 
the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil.  They  came  together 
on  the  ground  of  identity  of  character,  of  desire  for  mutual 
discipline  and  benefit,  and  of  community  of  feeling  and 
interest.  It  is  obvious  to  perceive  that  "Wesley  did  not 
originate  this  communion,  whether  it  were  for  good  or 
evil ;  for  it  was  an  ordinance  of  God  in  its  primal  institu- 
tion, and  in  this  particular  instance  arose  out  of  the  very- 
nature  of  the  case.  Wesley  could  not  have  prevented  it, 
except  by  such  measures  as  would  have  undone  all  he  had 
done.  God's  believing  people  found  one  another  out,  and 
associated  by  a  law  as  fixed  and  unalterable  as  that  kali 
and  acid  coalesce,  or  that  the  needle  follows  the  magnet. 
But  while  he  did  not  enact  the  law  which  God's  people 
obeyed  in  this  close  intercommunion  and  relationship,  he 
understood  and  revered  it,  and  furthered  and  regulated 
the  intercourse  of  the  godly  by  the  various  enactments 
and  graduated  organizations  of  his  system.  He  set  the 
city  upon  the  hill,  and  bade  it  be  conspicuous ;  the  lamp 
upon  the  stand,  and  bade  it  shine ;  the  vine  upon  the  soil, 
and  said  to  it,  Be  fruitful.  He  set  it  apart,  and  trimmed 
it,  and  hedged  it  in;  convinced  that  such  separation  as 
Scripture  enjoins  (2  Cor.  vi)  was  essential  to  its  growth 
and  welfare — a  truth  the  Christian  law  teaches  and  indi- 


4:2  JOHN    WESLEY. 

vidual  experience  confirms.  Every  benefit  the  institution 
of  a  Church  might  be  supposed  to  secure  is  forfeited  when 
the  Church  loses  its  distinctive  character  and  becomes 
identified  with  the  world. 

But  neither  to  glorify  their  founder  by  their  closer  com- 
bination, nor  for  self-complacent  admiration,  nor  to  be  a 
gazing-stock  for  the  multitude — an  ecclesiastical  lion  of 
formidable  dimensions  and  portentous  roar — nor  for  the 
tittle  tattle  of  mutual  gossipry  did  John  "Wesley  segregate 
his  people;  no,  but  for  their  good  and  the  good  of  man- 
kind. The  downy  bed  of  indolence  for  the  Church,  or  the 
obesity  that  grows  of  inaction,  never  once  came  within  his 
calculations  as  their  lot.  To  rub  the  rust  from  each  other, 
as  iron  sharpeneth  iron,  was  the  first  object  of  their  associ- 
ation ;  and  the  second  to  weld  their  forces  together  in  the 
glowing  furnace  of  communion  for  the  benefit  of  the 
world.  They  were  to  rejoice  in  the  good  grapes  of  their 
own  garden,  and  sweeten  by  inoculation  and  culture  the 
sour  grapes  of  their  neighbour.  They  were  to  attract  all 
goodness  to  themselves,  and  where  it  was  wanting  create 
it,  after  the  Arab  proverb,  "  The  palm-tree  looks  upon  the 
palm-tree  and  groweth  fruitful !"  It  was  as  the  salt  of  the 
earth  they  were  to  seek  to  retain  their  savour,  and  not  for 
their  own  preservation  alone.  No  one  ever  more  sedu- 
lously guarded  the  inward  subjective  aspect  of  the  Church, 
its  self-denying  intent,  its  exclusion  of  the  unholy  and 
unclean,  than  John  Wesley ;  and  no  one  ever  directed  its 
objective  gaze  outward  and  away  from  itself,  "to  have 
compassion  on  the  ignorant  and  out  of  the  way,"  with 
more  untiring  industry  than  he.  He  knew  the  Church's 
mission  was  more  than  half  unfulfilled,  while  it  locked 
itself  up  in  its  ark  of  security,  and  left  the  world  without 


JOHN    WESLEY.  43 

to  perish.  He  was  himself  the  last  man  in  the  world  to 
leave  the  wounded  to  die,  passing  by  in  his  supercilious- 
ness, and  asking,  ""Who  is  my  neighbour?"  and  the  last 
to  found  a  community  which  should  be  icy,  selfish,  and 
unfeeling.  He  was  a  working  minister,  and  fathomed  the 
depth  and  yielded  to  the  full  current  of  the  truth,  that  the 
Church  must  be  a  working  Church.  Armed  at  all  points 
with  sympathies  which  brought  him  into  contact  with  the 
world  without,  the  Church  must  resemble  him  in  this. 
He  was  an  utterly  unselfish  being;  he,  if  ever  any, 
could  say — 

"I  live  not  in  myself,  but  I  become 
Portion  of  that  around  me." 

To  work  for  the  benefit  of  men  when  he  might  have  taken 
his  ease,  became  a  necessity  of  his  nature,  moulded  upon 
the  pattern  of  his  self-sacrificing  Master,  and  the  law  of 
his  being  must  be  that  of  the  Church's.  It  must  "  do  or 
die."  It  must  be  instant  in  season,  out  of  season.  It  must 
go  into  the  highways  and  hedges.  It  must  beseech  men 
to  be  reconciled  to  God.  It  must  compel  them  to  come  in. 
It  miist  give  no  sleep  to  its  eyes,  nor  slumber  to  its  eyelids, 
till  its  work  be  done.  It  must  stand  in  the  top  of  high 
places,  by  the  way  in  the  places  of  the  paths,  and  cry,  "  O 
ye  simple,  understand  wisdom ;  and  ye  fools,  be  ye  of  an 
understanding  heart !"  It  must  gather  all  the  might  of  its 
energies,  and  lavish  all  the  wealth  of  its  resources,  and 
exhaust  all  the  influences  it  can  command,  and  coin  all 
the  ingenuity  of  its  devices  into  schemes  for  the  saving 
benefit  of  the  world.  Thus  not  merely  conservative  of  the 
truth  must  the  Church  be  for  its  own  edification  and  nur- 
ture, but  also  diffusive  of  the  truth  for  the  renewal  and 
redemption  of  all  around. 


44  JOHN    WESLEY. 

And  these  were  grand  discoveries  a  hundred  years  ago, 
of  which  the  credit  rests  very  mainly  with  the  founder  of 
Methodism,  although  mere  common-places  now.  It  is  true 
they  were  partially  and  speculatively  held  even  then ;  but 
very  partially,  and  in  the  region  of  thought  rather  than  of 
action.  Some  saw  the  truth  of  the  matter,  but  it  was  in 
its  proverbial  dwelling,  and  the  well  was  deep,  just  per- 
ceptible at  the  bottom,  but  beyond  their  grasp ;  while  to 
the  many  the  waters  were  muddy,  and  they  saw  it  not  at 
all.  There  were  no  Bible,  Tract,  or  Missionary  Societies 
then  to  employ  the  Church's  powers  and  indicate  its  path 
of  duty.  But  "Wesley  started  them  all.  He  wrote  and 
printed  and  circulated  books  in  thousands  upon  thousands 
of  copies.  He  set  afloat  home  and  foreign  missions.  The 
Church  and  the  world  were  alike  asleep;  he  sounded  the 
loud  trumpet  of  the  gospel,  and  awoke  the  world  to  trem- 
ble and  the  Church  to  work.  Never  was  such  a  scene 
before  in  England  The  correctness  and  maturity  of  his 
views  amid  the  deep  darkness  surrounding  him  is  startling, 
wonderful,  like  the  idea  of  a  catholic  Chulrch  springing  up 
amid  a  sectarian  Judaism.  It  is  midday  without  the  ante- 
cedent dawn.  It  beggars  thought.  It  defies  explanation. 
A  Church  in  earnest  as  a  want  of  the  times  is,  even  now 
in  these  greatly  advanced  days,  strenuously  demanded  and 
eloquently  enforced  by  appeal  after  appeal  from  the  press, 
the  platform,  and  the  pulpit ;  but  "Wesley  gave  it  practical 
existence  from  the  very  birth-hour  of  his  society.  His 
vigorous  bantling  rent  the  swathing  bands  of  quiet,  self- 
communing,  and  prevalent  custom,  and  gave  itself  a 
young  Hercules  to  the  struggle  with  the  inertia  of  the 
Church  and  the  opposition  of  the  world.  Successfully  it 
encountered  both.  It  quickened  the  one  and  subdued  the 


JOHN    WESLEY.  45 

other,  and  attained  by  the  endeavour  the  muscular  devel- 
opment and  manful  port  and  indomitable  energy  of  its* 
present  life.  John  "Wesley's  Church  is  no  mummy  cham- 
ber of  a  pyramid — silent,  sepulchral,  garnished  with  still 
figures  in  hieroglyphic  coif  and  cerecloth,  but  a  busy 
town,  a  busier  hive,  himself  the  informing  spirit,  the 
parent  energy,  the  exemplary  genius  of  the  whole.  Never 
was  the  character  of  the  leader  more  accurately  reflected 
in  his  troops.  Bonaparte  made  soldiers,  Wesley  made 
active  Christians. 

The  last  principle  we  shall  notice  as  illustrated  by  his 
career  has  relation  to  the  nature  and  work  of  the  ministry. 

A  grand  discovery  lying  very  near  the  root  of  Method- 
ism, considered  as  an  ecclesiastical  system,  it  was  the  for- 
tune of  John  Wesley  to  light  upon,  not  far  from  the  outset 
of  his  career,  a  discovery  quite  as  momentous  and  influen- 
tial in  the  diffusion  and  perpetuation  of  his  opinions  as 
that  with  which  Luther  startled  the  world  in  1524.  Luther 
published  the  then  monstrous  heresy  that  ministers  who 
are  married  can  serve  the  Lord  and  his  Church  as  holily, 
learnedly,  and  acceptably  as  celibate  priests  and  cloistered 
regulars ;  and  our  hero  found  out  that  men  unqualified  by 
university  education  for  orders  in  the  Church  were  the 
very  fittest  instruments  he  could  employ  in  the  itinerant 
work  of  early  Methodism.  Rough  work  requires  rough 
hands.  The  burly  pioneer  is  as  needful  in  the  army  as  the 
dapper  ensign,  and  the  hewer  of  wood  in  the  deep  forest 
as  the  French-polisher  in  the  city.  Now  this  was  a  great 
discovery,  up  to  that  period  a  thing  unknown.  The 
Roman  Church  knew  nothing  of  such  a  device — its  orders 
of  various  kinds  bore  no  approximation  to  it ;  the  Protest- 
ant Churches  knew  nothing  of  it — presbyter  and  bishop 


46  JOHN    WESLEY. 

were  at  equal  removes  from  it ;  the  very  puritans  and  non- 
conformists knew  nothing  of  it,  they  being  in  their  way  as 
great  sticklers  for  clerical  order  and  their  succession  as 
any  existing  body — the  more  pardonable,  as  some  were 
living  in  the  early  part  of  Wesley's  history  who  had  them- 
selves officiated  in  the  Churches  of  the  Establishment. 
His  discovery  was,  that  plain  men  just  able  to  read,  and 
explain  with  some  fluency  what  they  read  and  felt,  might 
go  forth  without  license  from  college,  or  presbytery,  or 
bishop,  into  any  parish  in  the  country,  the  weaver  from 
his  loom,  the  shoemaker  from  his  stall,  and  tell  their 
fellow-sinners  of  salvation  and  the  love  of  Christ.  This 
was  a  tremendous  innovation  upon  the  established  order 
of  things  everywhere,  and  was  as  reluctantly  forced  upon 
so  starched  a  precisian  as  John  Wesley,  as  it  must  have 
horrified  the  members  of  the  stereotyped  ministries  and 
priesthoods  existing  around.  But,  as  in  Luther's  case,  so 
here — "the  present  necessity"  was  the  teacher:  "the 
fields  were  white  to  the  harvest,  and  the  labourers  were 
few."  We  have  ample  evidence  to  show  that  if  he  could 
have  pressed  into  the  service  a  sufficient  number  of  the 
clerical  profession  he  would  have  preferred  the  employ- 
ment of  such  agents  exclusively,  but  as  they  were  only 
few  of  this  rank  who  lent  him  their  constant  aid,  he  was 
driven  to  adopt  the  measure  which  we  think  the  salvation 
of  his  system,  and  in  some  respects  its  glory.  The  greater 
part  of  the  clergy  would  have  been  unfitted  for  the  work 
he  would  have  allotted  them,  even  had  they  not  been 
hampered  by  the  trammels  of  ecclesiastical  usage.  This 
usage  properly  assigns  a  fixed  portion  of  clerical  labour  to 
one  person,  and  to  discharge  it  well  is  quite  enough  to 
tax  the  powers  of  most  men  to  the  utmost.  Few  parish 


JOHN    WESLEY.  47 

ministers,  how  conscientious  and  diligent  so  ever,  will  ever 
have  to  complain  of  too  little  to  do.  But  Wesley  had  a 
roving  commission,  was  an  "individuum  vagum,"  as  one 
of  the  clergy  called  him,  and  felt  himself  called  by  his 
strong  sense  of  the  need  of  some  extraordinary  means  to 
awaken  the  sleeping  population  of  the  country  to  overleap 
the  barriers  of  clerical  courtesy  and  ecclesiastical  law, 
invading  parish  after  parish  of  recusant  incumbents  with- 
out compunction  or  hesitancy  at  the  overweening  impulse 
of  duty.  However  much  some  clergymen  may  have  sym- 
pathized with  him  in  religious  opinion,  it  is  easy  to  under- 
stand how  many  natural  and  respectable  scruples  might 
prevent  their  following  such  a  leader  in  his  Church 
errantry.  They  must,  in  fact,  have  broken  with  their 
own  system  to  give  themselves  to  his,  and  this  they  might 
not  be  prepared  to  do.  They  might  value  his  itinerating 
plan  as  supplementary  to  the  localized  labours  of  the 
parish  minister,  but  at  the  same  time  demur  to  its  taking 
the  place  of  parochial  duty  as  its  tendency  was  and  as  its 
effect  has  been.  Thus  was  Wesley  early  thrown  upon  a 
species  of  agency  for  help  which  he  would  doubtless  sin- 
cerely deplore  at  first,  namely,  a  very  slenderly  equipped 
but  zealously  ardent  and  fearless  laity,  but  which,  again, 
his  after  experience  led  him  to  value  at  its  proper  worth, 
and  see  in  the  adaptation  of  his  men  to  the  common  mind 
their  highest  qualification.  "Fire  low"  is  said  to  have 
been  his  frequent  charge  in  after  life  to  young  ministers,  a 
maxim  the  truth  of  which  was  confirmed  by  the  years  of 
an  unusually  protracted  ministry  and  acquaintance  with 
mankind.  A  ministry  that  dealt  in  perfumed  handker- 
chiefs, and  felt  most  at  home  in  Bond-street  and  the  ball- 
room, the  perfumed  popinjays  of  their  profession;  or  one 


48  JOHN    WESLEY.  s 

that,  emulous  of  the  fame  of  Nimrod,  that  mighty  hunter 
before  the  Lord,  sacrificed  clerical  duty  to  the  sports  of 
the  field,  prized  the  reputation  of  securing  the  brush 
before  that  of  being  a  good  shepherd  of  the  sheep,  and 
deemed  the  music  of  the  Tally-ho  or  Hunting  Chorus  infi- 
nitely more  melodious  than  the  Psalms  of  David;  or, 
again,  one  composed  of  the  fastidious  student  of  over- 
refined  sensibilities,  better  acquainted  with  the  modes  of 
thought  of  past  generations  than  with  the  actual  habits  of 
the  present,  delicate  recluses  and  nervous  men,  the  bats 
of  society,  who  shrink  from  the  sunshine  of  busy  life  into 
the  congenial  twilight  of  their  library,  whose  over-edu- 
cated susceptibilities  would  prompt  the  strain — 

"  O  lift  me  as  a  wave,  a  leaf,  a  clo.ud ! 
I  fall  upon  the  thorns  of  life,  I  bleed !" 

these  would  have  utterly  failed  for  the  work  John  "Wesley 
wanted  them  to  do.  Gentlemen  would  either  to  a  great 
degree  have  wanted  those  sympathies  that  should  exist 
between  the  shepherd  and  the  flock,  or  would  have 
quailed  before  the  rough  treatment  the  first  preachers 
were  called  to  endure.  Although  the  refinement  of  a 
century  has  done  much  to  crush  the  coarser  forms  of  per- 
secution, it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  the  early  ministers 
of  Methodism  were  called  to  encounter  physical  quite  as 
frequently  as  logical  argumentation.  The  middle  terms 
of  the  syllogisms  they  were  treated  to  were  commonly  the 
middle  of  the  horsepond,  and  their  Sorites  the  dungheap. 
Now  the  plain  men  whom  "Wesley  was  so  fortunate  as  to 
enlist  in  his  cause  were  those  whose  habits  of  daily  life 
and  undisputing  faith  in  the  truth  of  their  system  qualified 
them  to  "  endure  hardness  as  good  soldiers."  They  were 


JOHN    WESLEY.  4:9 

not  over  refined  for  intercourse  with  rude,  common  peo- 
ple, could  put  up  with  the  coarsest  fare  in  their  mission  to 
preach  the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ  to  the  poorest  of 
the  poor,  and  were  not  to  be  daunted  by  the  perspective 
of  rotten  eggs  and  duckings,  of  brickbats  and  manda- 
muses, which  threatened  to  keep  effectually  in  abeyance 
any  temptation  to  incur  the  woe  when  all  men  should 
speak  well  of  them.  Hence  among  the  first  coadjutors  of 
the  great  leader  were  John  Nelson,  a  stone-mason ;  Thomas 
Olivers,  a  shoemaker;  William  Hunter,  a  farmer;  Alex- 
ander Mather,  a  baker ;  Peter  Jaco,  a  Cornish  fisherman ; 
Thomas  Hanby,  a  weaver,  &c. 

Another  point  in  regard  to  the  ministry  to  which  Wesley 
gave  habitual  prominence,  was  the  duty  of  making  that 
profession  a  laborious  calling.  The  heart  and  soul  of  his 
system,  as  of  his  personal  ministry,  he  made  to  be  work. 
Work  was  the  mainspring  of  his  Methodism,  activity, 
energy,  progression.  From  the  least  to  the  largest  wheel 
within  wheel  that  necessity  created,  or  his  ingenuity  set 
up,  all  turned,  wrought,  acted  incessantly  and  intelligently 
too.  It  was  not  mere  machinery ;  it  was  full  of  eyes.  To 
the  lowest  agent  of  Methodism,  be  it  collector,  contributor, 
exhorter,  or  distributer  of  tracts,  each  has,  besides  the 
faculty  of  constant  occupation,  the  ability  to  render  a 
reason  for  what  he  does.  Work  and  wisdom  are  in  happy 
combination — at  least,  such  was  the  purpose  of  the  con- 
triver, and  we  have  reason  to  believe  has  been  in  a  fair 
proportion  secured.  And  the  labour  that  marks  the  lower, 
marks  preeminently  the  higher  departments  of  the  system. 
The  ministry  beyond  all  professions  demands  labour.  He 
who  seeks  a  cure  that  it  may  be  a  sinecure,  or  a  benefice 
which  shall  be  a  benefit  to  himself  alone — who  expects  to 

4 


50  JOHN    WESLEY. 

find  the  ministry  a  couch  of  repose  instead  of  a  field  for 
toil — a  bread-winner  rather  than  a  soul-saver  by  means  of 
painful  watchings,  fastings,  toils,  and  prayers — has  utterly 
mistaken  its  nature,  and  is  unworthy  of  its  honour.  It  is  a 
stewardship,  a  husbandry,  an  edification,  a  ward,  a  war- 
fare, demanding  the  untiring  effort  of  the  day  and  unslum- 
bering  vigilance  of  the  night  to  fulfil  its  duties  and  secure 
its  reward.  It  is  well  to  remember  that  the  slothful  and 
the  wicked  servant  are  conjoined  in  the  denunciation 
of  the  indignant  master — "Thou  wicked  and  slothful 
servant !" 

"Where  there  may  be  sufficient  lack  of  principle  to 
prompt  to  indolence  and  self-indulgence,  there  are  few 
communions  which  will  not  present  the  opportunity  to  the 
sluggish  or  sensual  minister.  But  the  Methodist  mode  of 
operations  is  better  calculated  than  perhaps  almost  any 
other  for  checking  human  corruption  when  developing 
itself  in  this  form.  The  ordinary  amount  of  official  duty 
required  of  the  travelling  preachers  is  enough  to  keep  both 
the  reluctant  and  the  willing  labourer  fully  employed. 

And  Mr.  Wesley  exacted  no  more  of  others  than  he  cheer- 
fully and  systematically  rendered  himself,  daily  labour  even 
to  weariness  being  the  habit  of  his  life. 

He  was  the  prince  of  missionaries,  however  humble  his 
self-estimate  might  be,  the  prime  apostle  of  Christendom 
since  Luther ;  his  preeminent  example  too  likely  to  be  lost 
sight  of  in  this  missionary  age,  when  the  Church,  in  the 
bustle  of  its  present  activities,  has  little  time  to  cherish 
recollections  of  its  past  worthies,  or  to  speculate  with 
clearness  on  the  shapes  of  its  future  calling  and  destiny. 
But  in  one  sense  he  was  more  than  an  apostle.  By  mira- 
cle they  were  qualified  with  the  gift  of  tongues  for  missions 


JOHN    WESLEY.  51 

to  men  of  strange  speech ;  but  Wesley  did  not  shrink  from 
the  toil  of  acquiring  language  after  language,  in  order  to 
speak  intelligibly  on  the  subject  of  religion  to  foreigners. 
The  Italian  he  acquired  that  he  might  minister  to  a  few 
Vaudois ;  the  German,  that  he  might  converse  with  Mora- 
vians; and  the  Spanish,  for  the  benefit  of  some  Jews 
among  his  parishioners.  Such  rare  parts,  and  zeal,  and 
perseverance,  and  learning,  are  seldom  combined  in  any 
living  man :  we  have  never  seen  nor  heard  of  any  one  like 
Wesley  in  the  capacity  and  liking  for  labour ;  we  indulge, 
therefore,  very  slender  hopes  of  encountering  such  a  one 
in  the  remaining  space  of  our  pilgrimage.  In  our  sober 
judgment,  it  were  as  sane  to  expect  the  buried  majesty  of 
Denmark  to  revisit  the  glimpses  of  the  moon  as  hope  to 
find  all  the  conditions  presented  in  John  Wesley  show 
themselves  again  in  England.  We  may  not  look  upon  his 
like  again.  His  labours  in  a  particular  department — that 
of  preaching — astound  from  their  magnitude ;  although 
these,  far  from  being  the  sum  total  of  his  occupations, 
were  but  a  fraction  of  a  vast  whole,  and  a  sample  of  the 
rest.  During  fifty-two  years,  according  to  his  biographers, 
he  generally  delivered  two  sermons  a  day,  very  frequently 
four  or  five.  Calculating,  therefore,  at  twice  a  day,  and 
allowing  fifty  sermons  annually  for  extraordinary  occa- 
sions, which  is  the  lowest  computation  that  can  be  made, 
the  whole  number  in  fifty-two  years  will  be  forty  thousand 
four  hundred  and  sixty.  To  these  may  be  added  an  infi- 
nite number  of  exhortations  to  the  societies  after  preach- 
ing, and  other  occasional  meetings  at  which  he  assisted. 
Add  to  these  his  migrations  and  journeyings  to  and  fro, 
and  none  can  say  that  his  life  was  not  well  filled  up.  In 
his  younger  days  he  travelled  on  horseback,  and  was  a 


52  JOHN    WESLEY. 

hard  but  unskilful  rider.  With  a  book  held  up  before  his 
eyes  by  both  hands,  and  the  rein  dropped  on  the  horse's 
neck,  he  often  travelled  as  much  as  fifty,  sixty,  or  even 
seventy  miles  a  day ;  from  the  quickness  of  his  pace  and 
unguardedness  of  his  horsemanship,  endangering  his  own 
and  the  good  steed's  limbs  by  frequent  falls.  At  a  later 
period  he  used  a  carriage.  Of  his  travels  the  lowest  cal- 
culation we  can  make  is  four  thousand  miles  annually, 
which,  in  fifty-two  years,  will  give  two  hundred  and  eight 
thousand  miles;  that  is,  if  he  had  ridden  eight  times 
round  the  globe  on  which  we  dwell,  he  would  have  had  a 
handsome  surplus  of  miles  remaining  to  have  done  his 
achievement  into  Irish  measure.  Of  the  salutary  effect 
of  these  abundant  labours  upon  his  frame  we  have  his 
personal  testimony  at  a  very  advanced  age.  His  was  a 
"cruda  viridisque  senectus"  to  the  last,  and  he  himself  a 
memorable  instance  of  the  worth  of  the  OPEN-AIR-AND- 
HABI>WOKK-CUKE,  a  process  of  more  certain  value  and 
ready  application  at  all  times  than  hydropathy,  homoeo- 
pathy, or  any  of  the  thousand  quackeries  of  the  pres- 
ent day. 

In  person  he  was  small,  and,  when  seen  in  company 
with  his  friends,  appeared  almost  unusually  so.  An 
engraving  is  extant  which  thus  pictures  him  walking  with 
Hamilton  and  Cole.  It  is  amazing  that  so  slight  a  frame, 
shaken  as  it  had  been  by  early  pulmonary  attacks,  could 
have  endured  such  incessant  exposure  and  labour.  To 
seek  to  delineate  the  more  subtile  lines  or  delicate  shades 
of  his  character,  our  purpose  forbids.  The  time  and  space 
would  be  wanting,  while  there  is  no  lack  of  liking 
for  the  task.  We  shall  therefore  confine  our  further 
remarks  to  an  illustration  of  what  we  conceive  to  be  the 


KY.  HAMILTON.  AND  COLE. 

(As  seen  -waikin*  m  i.'ue  streets  of  Edinburgh.) 


JOHN    WESLEY.  53 

leading  traits  of  John  "Wesley's  character,  never  so  speci- 
fied that  we  are  aware  of  before,  yet  lying  so  palpably  on 
the  surface,  that  they  have  only  to  be  named  to  be  recog- 
nised. Without  the  preeminent  qualities  in  question,  no 
one  was  ever  great  and  good ;  and  as  we  have  no  scruple 
in  calling  him  great  and  good  beyond  easy  comparison,  so 
are  these  qualities  to  be  found  developed  in  him  to  an 
unusual  degree.  They  made  him  what  he  became,  the 
successful  reformer  of  his  age,  and  one  of  England's 
noblest  worthies,  while  his  system  will  make  him  a  bene- 
factor to  millions  yet  unborn. 

The  distinctive  features  of  character  we  unhesitatingly 
ascribe  to  him,  are  an  indomitable  firmness,  and  a  bound- 
less benevolence.  John  Wesley  was  a  man  in  a  singular 
measure  tenax  propositi.  Where  he  thought  himself  cer- 
tainly right,  nothing  on  earth  could  move  him.  In  all 
such  cases  this  quality  is  a  great  virtue,  but  in  cases  of  a 
different  complexion  it  is  a  great  fault.  In  questions  of 
doubtful  propriety  and  prudence  it  will  bear  the  ugly 
names  of  obstinacy  and  self-will.  But,  stigmatize  it  as  we 
please,  there  never  was  a  great  man  without  a  strong  will, 
and  an  infusion  of  self-reliance  sufficient  to  raise  him 
above  the  dauntings  of  opposition  and  reliance  upon 
props.  It  is  a  heritable  quality,  as  transmissible  from 
father  to  son,  as  the  sage  or  "  foolish  face."  Wesley  cer- 
tainly derived  it  from  his  parents.  The  daughter  of  the 
eminent  non-conformist  rector  of  Cripplegate,  Dr.  Annes- 
ley,  who  at  thirteen  years  of  age  had  studied  the  state 
Church  controversy,  and  made  up  her  mind,  with  force  of 
reason  too,  to  contemn  her  father's  decision,  and  take  her 
place  for  life  on  the  other  side,  cannot  be  supposed  to 
have  been  wanting  in  firmness ;  who,  further,  would  never 


54  JOHN     WESLEY. 

renounce  her  Jacobite  respect  for  the  jus  divinum  of  the 
Stuart  kings,  nor  say  amen  to  her  husband's  prayers  for 
him  of  the  Revolution,  nor  bow  beneath  the  thousand  ills 
of  her  married  life,  and  pursued  the  onward,  even,  and 
unwearying  tenor  of  her  way,  undismayed  by  censure, 
uncrushed  by  poverty  and  domestic  cares,  unchanging 
and  unchanged  to  the  last,  could  not  be  wanting  in  it. 
Nor  was  the  sire  less  endowed  with  it,  though  there  was 
more  of  petulance  and  human  passion  in  its  display  in 
him.  The  man  whose  whole  life  was  a  perpetual  struggle 
with  circumstances  and  war  with  opinions,  and  a  series  of 
ill-rewarded  efforts — the  wight  who  stole  away  from  the 
dissenting  academy,  whence  they  sohoed  him  in  vain,  and 
without  consulting  friend  or  relative,  tramped  it  to  Oxford, 
and  entered  himself  a  penniless  servitor ;  who  afterward, 
a  right  loyal  but  very  threadbare  clergyman,  rode  off  in  a 
huff  from  his  wife,  nor  rejoined  her  for  a  twelvemonth,  till 
the  death  of  King  William  released  him  from  his  sturdily 
kept  but  unrighteous  vow — who  "  fought  with  wild  beasts" 
for  high  Church  of  the  highest  order,  and  shrank  from  no 
cuffs  he  caught  in  such  a  cause;  and  who,  when  his 
"  Job "  was  consumed  in  the  fire  that  burnt  his  parsonage, 
sat  down  to  renew  the  labour  of  years,  and  recompose 
and  rewrite  his  learned  Latin  folio: — these  are  so  many 
indications  of  indomitable  firmness,  that  we  should  be 
blind  as  moles  to  overlook  its  presence  in  his  character. 
John  Wesley  had  the  same  unbending  sinew.  He  too 
was  made  of  stern  unpliant  stuff,  and  to  drive  the  Tiber 
back  to  its  sources  were  as  easy  a  task  as  to  turn  him  back 
from  a  course  deliberately  chosen  with  the  approval  of  his 
judgment.  Opponents,  strong  and  numerous  enough,  he 
had  to  encounter,  to  justify  concession,  had  he  been  so 


JOHN     WESLEY.  55 

disposed,  nor  was  reason  always  so  visibly  on  his  side  but 
he  might  have  paused.  We  shall  name  an  occasion  or 
two  such  as  rarely  occur  in  the  life  of  a  good  man,  which 
signalized  the  lordliness  of  his  will,  and  proved  him  to  be 
endowed  with  a  rare  determination.  We  omit  the  ridi- 
cule and  minor  persecutions  provoked  by  the  religious 
singularities  of  his  early  career,  as  not  sufficient  to  turn 
even  an  aspen-minded  man  who  had  any  earnest  devotion 
about  him,  from  his  way,  and  note  his  first  most  trying 
decision — that  by  which  he  was  led  to  renounce  his  father's 
living. 

Shortly  before  his  father's  decease,  it  occurred  to  the 
head  of  the  family,  looking  anxiously  forward  to  its  for- 
tunes, and  those  of  his  parish,  how  desirable  it  would  be 
that  his  son  John  should  succeed  him  in  his  cure,  at  once 
for  the  perpetuation  of  the  religious  care  he  had  exercised 
over  his  parishioners,  and  that  his  wife  and  daughters 
might  retain  their  accustomed  home  at  the  parsonage. 
Here  was  every  consideration  to  move  a  susceptible  man — 
regard  for  souls,  veneration  for  a  parent  in  the  ministry, 
respect  for  hoar  hairs  grown  gray  in  the  service  of  the 
Church,  and  Christian  and  family  ties  of  more  than  ordi- 
nary strength — all  put  before  him  in  a  strain  of  uncommon 
force  and  pathos  by  his  father  in  his  final  appeal. 

But  none  of  these  tilings  moved  our  hero.  He  was 
devout,  affectionate,  and  filial,  but  firm ;  so  notoriously  so, 
that  his  elder  brother  Samuel,  writing  to  him  on  the  sub- 
ject in  December,  1734,  says:  "Yesterday  I  received  a 
letter  from  my  father,  wherein  he  tells  me  you  are  unalter- 
ably resolved  not  to  accept  of  a  certain  living  if  you  could 
get  it.  After  this  declaration  I  believe  no  one  can  move 
your  mind  but  Him  who  made  it."  The  question  was,  in 


56  JOHN    WESLEY. 

fact,  decided,  and  he  was  not  to  be  shaken  from  his  deter- 
mination, the  ground  of  decision  being  not  the  comparative 
merits  of  Epworth  and  Oxford,  as  fields  of  usefulness,  but 
something  more  exclusively  personal.  He  felt  as  many  a 
man  in  earnest  about  salvation  has  felt  before  and  since, 
that  the  care  of  his  own  soul  is  of  prime  importance,  and 
must  be  especially  regarded  in  every  measure  we  adopt ; 
that  the  neglect  of  self  is  ill  compensated  by  saving  ben- 
efit to  others,  or  any  advantage  of  an  earthly  kind.  For 
reasons  given  with  great  length  and  clearness,  in  a  letter 
to  his  father,  he  concluded  a  continued  residence  at  Oxford 
essential  to  his  soul's  peace  and  welfare.  "  The  point  is," 
he  says,  "  whether  I  shall  or  shall  not  work  out  my  salva- 
tion, whether  I  shall  serve  Christ  or  Belial."  The  semi- 
monastic  life  of  the  university  was  essential  to  the  very 
life  of  piety  in  his  heart  according  to  his  views  at  that 
juncture;  therefore  Epworth,  with  its  long  list  of  pru- 
dential make-weights,  kicked  the  beam. 

And  Wesley  was  humanly  right.  His  personal  relation 
to  eternity  outweighed  all  other  considerations  to  his  awa- 
kened soul.  He  felt,  as  few  men  feel,  how  solemn  a  thing 
it  is  to  die.  His  resolution  was  based  upon  the  sentiment 
of  his  own  hymn  in  after  days : — 

"A  charge  to  keep  I  have, 

A  God  to  glorify ; 
A  never-dying  soul  to  save, 

And  fit  it  for  the  sky." 

And  "Wesley  was  divinely  right.  If  ever  the  Spirit  of 
God  had  to  do  with  the  moral  movements  of  men,  its 
operation  is  discernible  in  this  case.  It  was  of  infinite 
moment  to  the  world  that  "Wesley's  decision  should  have 
been  what  it  was,  and  of  equal  moment  to  his  own  peace 


JOHN    WESLEY.  5? 

of  conscience  that  it  should  have  been  correct.  The  mode 
in  which  he  viewed  the  question  sets  him  right  in  the 
court  of  conscience,  and  the  results  that  followed  justified 
his  decision.  His  father  would  have  involved  him  in  a 
maze  of  nice  casuistry — puzzled  him  by  a  complex  tangle 
of  motives  and  influences — but  wiser  than  he,  and  more 
free  from  bias,  the  son  looks  at  it  in  the  simple,  proper 
light,  that  of  duty,  and  gives  utterance  to  the  following 
sentiments,  which  are  sublimely  true : — 

"I  do  not  say  that  the  glory  of  God  is  to  be  my  first,  or 
my  principal  consideration,  but  my  only  one:  since  all 
that  are  not  implied  in  this  are  absolutely  of  no  weight ; 
in  presence  of  this  they  all  vanish  away,  they  are  less  than 
the  small  dust  of  the  balance.  And,  indeed,  till  all  other 
considerations  were  set  aside,  I  could  never  come  to  any 
clear  determination;  till  my  eye  was  single  my  whole 
body  was  full  of  darkness.  Every  consideration  distinct 
from  this  threw  a  shadow  over  all  the  objects  I  had  in 
view,  and  was  such  a  cloud  as  no  light  could  penetrate. 
Whereas,  so  long  as  I  can  keep  my  eye  single,  and 
steadily  fixed  on  the  glory  of  God,  I  have  no  more  doubt 
of  the  way  wherein  I  should  go,  than  of  the  shining  of 
the  sun  at  noon-day." 

"Well  said,  clear  head,  and  stoutly  done,  brave  heart, 
though  there  were  natural  yearnings  and  fond  misgivings 
in  thy  way !  In  questions  of  duty  thou  didst  clearly  see 
duty  alone  is  to  be  consulted.  Thou  didst  not  confer  with 
flesh  and  blood;  these  had  crushed  thy  conscience,  and 
warped  thy  will,  and  reversed  thy  decision.  Thou  didst 
take  the  matter  to  the  infallible  oracle,  Him  that  sitteth 
upon  the  throne ;  like  Hezekiah  thou  didst  lay  it  upon  the 
altar  of  the  Most  High,  and  tremulously  say,  "that  which 


58  JOHN    WESLEY. 

I  know  not  teach  thou  me,"  and  thou  wert  rewarded  with 
a  divine  intimation,  "This  is  the  way!"  Thou  didst  thus 
hate  thy  father  and  thy  mother  and  thy  house,  and  take 
up  thy  cross  for  Christ's  sake  and  the  gospel's;  but  thy 
more  than  natural,  thy  Christian  firmness,  reaped  its 
recompense  even  here,  for  thou  receivedst  a  hundredfold 
now,  even  in  this  time,  houses  and  brethren,  and  sisters 
and  mothers,  and  children,  and  long  since,  in  heaven, 
eternal  life.  Stoic  fortitude,  Koman  daring,  hide  your 
heads  before  such  firmness  as  this.  Epictetus  is  a  jest, 
and  Regulus,  "egregius  eovul"  a  fable,  when  compared 
with  this  plain  narrative  of  modern  heroism.  Here,  how- 
ever, was  one  of  the  leading  features  of  John  "Wesley's 
character,  broadly  portrayed,  deeply  coloured,  boldly 
thrown  up  from  the  canvass,  and  giving  happy  omen  of 
his  future  career. 

The  firmness  which  marked  his  decision  here,  the  same 
which  forbade  discouragement  and  retractation  at  Oxford, 
where,  after  a  short  absence,  he  found  his  flock  of  twenty- 
seven  persons  reduced  to  five,  and  which  made  him  resist 
the  authorities  at  Georgia,  was  peculiarly  shown  in  his 
relations  to  the  Church  of  England  throughout  his  life. 
In  the  line  of  remarks  this  topic  opens,  we  shall  describe 
simply  the  facts  of  the  case,  and  neither  apologize  for 
Wesley  nor  condemn  the  Church.  He  was  never  a  Dis- 
senter in  his  own  view  of  the  word,  and  never  wished  his 
followers  to  be.  Nevertheless  there  is  a  prevailing  order 
in  the  proceedings  of  every  community,  and  this  order,  in 
his  own  Church,  he  did  not  hesitate  to  disturb,  at  the 
instance  of  what  he  deemed  sufficiently  valid  reasons. 
Whatever  his  followers  may  urge  in  defence  of  his  meas- 
ures, they  were  obviously  at  odds  with  ecclesiastical  order. 


JOHN     WESLEY.  59 

We  have  a  very  remarkable  conversation  of  John  Wesley 
with  the  Bishop  of  Bristol,  in  the  year  1739,  on  the  subject 
of  justification  by  faith,  in  which,  after  disposing  of  that 
topic,  Wesley's  proceedings  are  canvassed; — the  whole 
going  in  proof  of  two  things :  the  one  how  careful  he  was 
in  the  outset  of  his  career  to  encroach  as  little  as  possible 
upon  canonical  order;  and  the  other,  that  at  the  call  of 
apprehended  duty  he  was  prepared  to  go  any  lengths  in 
violation  of  it. 

The  history  of  Wesley's  relations  to  the  Established 
Church  is  traced  with  elaborate  skill  in  a  series  of  papers 
in  the  "Wesleyan  Methodist  Magazine"  for  1829,  to 
which  we  must  refer  our  readers,  and  one  sentence  alone 
from  which  we  will  extract: — " While  his  attachment  to 
the  Church  was  truly  conscientious,  equally  so  was  his 
determination  to  innovate  as  Providence  should  direct 
him.  His  language  equally  with  his  actions  indicated  the 
self-impelling  convictions  of  the  Reformer."  This  is  just 
the  philosophy  of  the  case  as  clearly  put  by  the  author, 
and  felt  by  Mr.  Wesley.  But  so  completely  had  the  ven- 
erable leader  of  the  movement  habituated  himself  to  the 
independent,  action  of  his  society  that  nothing  could  have 
been  more  in  accordance  with  the  current  of  his  life,  prin- 
ciples, and  anticipations,  (see  "Minutes  of  Conference" 
for  1744,)  nor  more  certainly  have  secured  his  approval, 
than  the  distinctive  position  this  body  has  since  taken  up, 
neither  controlled  by  the  Church  of  England  nor  hostile 
to  it.  That  body  seems  to  have  embodied  in  the  happiest 
way  the  spirit  and  pattern  of  its  founder,  when  it  defined 
its  general  policy  toward  the  Establishment  in  the  follow- 
ing terms : — "  Methodism  exists  in  a  friendly  relation  with 
the  Establishment.  In  all  its  official  writings  and  sane- 


60  JOHN    WESLEY. 

tioned  publications,  though  often  called  to  defend  itself 
against  intemperate  clergymen,  it  treats  the  Church  itself 
with  respect  and  veneration,  and  cordially  rejoices  in  the 
advance  of  its  religious  character  and  legitimate  moral 
influence." 

In  the  unbending  firmness  of  our  hero  we  see  much 
of  the  gracious  man, — the  man  whose  heart  is  established 
with  grace, — but  we  see  also  in  it  largely  the  man  John 
Wesley.  We  fancy  we  perceive  in  it  no  less  somewhat 
of  the  sturdiness  of  the  national  character.  John  Bull 
will  not  be  badgered  and  brow-beaten  any  more  than 
he  will  be  coaxed  and  cajoled  into  what  his  strong 
determination  opposes ;  and  Wesley,  in  his  nervous  Eng- 
lish, his  practical  wisdom,  his  steady  good  sense,  and  his 
unconquerable  will,  displayed  some  of  the  most  respect- 
able and  salient  points  of  the  Saxon  character,  belonging 
by  unmistakable  evidence  to  that  family  of  the  Bulls, 
which,  notwithstanding  all  its  faults,  has  no  few  quali- 
ties to  admire.  There  is  in  his  rigid  firmness,  moreover, 
something  of  his  puritan  ancestry,  one  point  at  least  in 
which  Bishop  Warburton  was  right.  His  blood  was  viti- 
ated with  their  stubborn  humour,  if  it  be  a  vice.  He 
belonged  to  the  tribe  of  Ishinael  by  both  father's  and 
mother's  side  at  a  single  remove,  and  he  could  not  be 
expected  to  turn  out  other  than  he  did.  But  we  pause. 
John  Wesley  was  frank,  generous,  open,  simple  as  a  child ; 
confiding,  plastic,  and  persuasible  where  a  man  had  right 
upon  his  side,  but  where  himself  was  right  he  was  posi- 
tive— to  a  fault? — no,  to  perfection;  and  it  had  been  a 
less  miracle  to  move  a  mountain  into  the  sea  than  to  move 
him  from  his  purpose.  This  goes  far  to  explain  the  man 
and  his  work.  To  no  one  was  Regent  Murray's  saying  at 


JOHN    WESLEY.  61 

the  grave  of  John  Knox  ever  more  applicable  than  to  our 
intrepid  modern  John : — 

"  There  lies  one  who  never  feared  the  face  of  man." 

Unbounded  benevolence  was  another  leading  trait  in 
his  character.  This  was  the  basis  of  his  life,  the  spring 
of  his  self-denial  and  his  labours.  A  recluse  at  Oxford, 
musty  folios  and  metaphysics  could  not  extinguish  the 
smouldering  fire  within — 

"  He  thought  as  a  sage,  but  he  felt  as  a  man." 

Afterward  the  fire  burst  forth ;  he  kindled  as  he  flew  over 
the  world,  a  flaming  seraph  of  mercy  to  mankind. 

At  the  University  his  benevolence  led  him  into  frightful 
prisons  and  condemned  cells,  into  hospital  and  lazar-house ; 
from  the  society  of  the  common-room  and  beloved  books 
to  converse  with  felons  and  miserable  sufferers.  It  cur- 
tailed his  bread  and  his  dress,  it  debarred  him  of  the  com- 
fort of  a  well-shorn  head,  it  led  to  a  course  of  self-sacrifice 
and  effort  for  the  benefit  of  the  wretched  and  the  sinful, 
which  put  his  sincerity  sorely  to  the  test,  and  lasted  with 
his  life.  His  heart  bled  for  the  world ;  he  saw  sin  burst- 
ing out  in  blotches  of  sorrow  all  over  the  face  of  society, 
and  he  longed  to  purify,  console,  and  heal.  He  could  not 
look  upon  men  drawn  unto  death  and  ready  to  be  slain 
without  attempting  their  rescue.  He  saw  no  hope  for  their 
bodies  or  their  souls  but  in  the  labours  and  voluntary  gifts 
of  Christians  for  their  salvation.  He  felt  for  their  fate ; 
but,  eminently  practical,  he  felt  in  bed  and  board,  in 
clothing  and  comfort.  His  was  sumptuary  sensibility 
more  than  tearful,  active  compassion  rather  than  passive. 
Merely  because  more  easy  of  illustration,  and  not  for  a 


62  JOHN     WESLEY. 

moment  putting  it  in  comparison  with  the  ardour  of  his 
soul  to  do  good,  we  adduce  his  monetary  benevolence  in 
proof  of  our  point — a  benevolence  which  would  give  all, 
do  all,  reserve  nothing,  provided  it  could  but  win  a 
revenue  of  glory  to  God  and  happiness  to  wretched  men. 
Never  did  any  man  part  with  money  more  freely.  His 
charities  knew  no  limit  but  his  means.  He  gave  away  all 
that  he  had  beyond  bare  provision  for  his  present  wants. 
He  began  this  procedure  early,  and  never  left  off  till  he 
had  done  with  earth.  In  his  first  year  at  college  he 
received  £30,  and  making  £28  suffice  for  his  necessities, 
he  gave  away  in  charities  £2.  The  next  year  he  received 
£60,  but  still  making  £28  meet  his  expenditure,  he  gave 
away  £32.  The  third  year  he  received  £90  and  gave 
away  £62.  His  receipts  in  the  fourth  year  increased  by 
the  same  sum  as  before,  and  out  of  £120  he  gave  away  all 
but  his  primitive  £28.  And  thus  he  acted  through  life, 
having  given  away  in  charities,  it  is  believed,  as  much  as 
£30,000,  without  a  moment's  thought  for  himself,  his 
hands  open  as  day,  his  heart  the  dwelling-place  of  kind- 
ness. His  generous  and  unstinted  liberality  finds  its  most 
convincing  proof  in  his  circumstances  at  death.  He  had 
often  and  publicly  declared  that  his  own  hands  should  be 
his  executors,  and  that  if  he  died  worth  £10  beyond  the 
value  of  his  books  and  other  inconsiderable  items,  he 
would  give  the  world  leave  to  call  him  a  thief  and  a 
robber.  He  made  all  he  could,  and  his  publications  were 
numerous  and  profitable ;  he  saved  all  he  could,  not  wast- 
ing so  much  as  a  sheet  of  paper;  and  then  he  gave  all  he 
could,  with  an  angel's  sublime  disregard  of  gold  and  silver 
and  the  wealth  the  world  sets  such  store  by.  The  notion 
that  he  must  be  enriching  himself  prevailed  even  among 


JOHN    WESLEY.  63 

those  who  ought  to  have  known  better.  Need  we  wonder, 
then,  that  he  received  a  letter  from  the  Board  of  Excise 
telling  him  that  the  Commissioners  could  not  doubt  but 
that  he  had  plate  of  which  he  had  neglected  to  make 
entry,  and  requiring  him  immediately  to  send  a  proper 
return.  The  following  was  his  answer: — "Sir,  I  have  two 
silver  teaspoons  at  London,  and  two  at  Bristol ;  this  is  all 
the  plate  which  I  have  at  present;  and  I  shall  not  buy 
any  more  while  so  many  around  me  want  bread.  Tour 
obedient  servant,  JOHN  WESLEY."  His  chaise  and  horses, 
his  clothes,  and  a  few  trifles  of  that  kind,  were  all,  his 
books  excepted,  that  he  left  at  his  death.  Thus  he  laid 
not  up  treasure  upon  earth,  but  in  heaven,  a  good  founda- 
tion against  the  time  to  come,  that  he  might  lay  hold  upon 
eternal  life.  Free  from  the  love  of  money  and  the  impulse 
of  ambition,  the  two  most  ordinary  motives  of  action 
among  civilized  men,  what  powerful  principle  sustained 
him  in  his  life-long  career  of  labour  and  endurance,  self- 
denial  and  responsibility?  One  that  never  entered  into 
the  calculation  of  his  unfriendly  critics  and  biographers — 
a  strong  sense  of  duty  springing  from  love  to  God.  The 
stanza  of  the  hymn  so  much  upon  his  lips  on  his  dying 
bed  is  the  key  that  unlocks  his  heart,  that  opens  up  the 
mystery  of  a  life  otherwise  inexplicable : — 

"I'll  praise  my  Maker  while  I've  breath, 
And  when  my  voice  is  lost  in  death 

Praise  shall  employ  my  nobler  powers ; 
My  days  of  praise  shall  ne'er  be  past, 
While  life,  and  thought,  and  being  last, 

Or  immortality  endures." 

And  when  the  daughters  of  music  were  brought  low,  and 
the  death-rattle  was  heard  in  his  throat,  when  lip  and 


64  JOHN    WESLEY. 

limb  were  alike  stiffening  in  the  paralysis  and  collapse  of 
death,  the  last  feeble  effort  of  his  voice  was  put  forth  in 
syllabling — 

"  I  '11  praise— I  '11  praise." 

Thus  died  John  Wesley, — an  end  in  harmony  with  his 
life.  Our  Euthanasia  shapes  itself  into  resemblance  to  his 
dismissal: — "Let  me  die  the  death  of  the  righteous,  and 
let  my  last  end  be  like  his!" 

But  we  cannot  leave  our  subject  even  here  without 
adverting  to  one  of  the  finest  forms  in  which  the  benevo- 
lence of  this  great  man  showed  itself — one  of  the  finest 
forms,  in  fact,  which  it  can  assume  amid  the  war  of  parties 
and  clash  of  religious  discord — namely,  his  enlarged  charity 
toward  religionists  of  every  name.  We  believe  there  is  no 
instance  on  record  in  which  he  was  the  assailant,  and  that 
it  was  only  when  covered  with  the  blackest  aspersions 
affecting  his  character  and  creed  that  he  came  forth  to 
make  his  modest  and,  in  most  cases,  convincing  apologies. 
The  unmeasured  invectives  of  many  a  Thersites  both  in 
the  Church  and  in  the  world  he  met  with  the  philosophic 
gentleness  and  gravity  of  a  Ulysses.  He  seldom  forgot  in 
the  heat  of  polemics  what  was  due  to  himself  as  a  gentle- 
man, a  scholar,  and  a  Christian. 

His  catholicity  is  seen  in  the  constant  object  of  his 
labours,  which  was  not  to  raise  a  new  sect  among  other 
sects,  but  to  revive  the  languid  spirit  of  religion  in  all, 
and  especially  in  his  own  beloved  Church.  That  ever  his 
work  and  people  took  another  direction  was  not  owing  to 
any  crafty  scheme,  long  a  hatching  in  his  own  bosom,  but 
to  the  bent  of  circumstances  and  the  preference  of  the 
people  themselves.  He  gave  no  countenance  to  prose- 


JOHN    WESLEY.  65 

lytism,  and  deprecated,  at  least,  the  name  of  separation. 
He  never  put  his  peculiar  views  above  the  fundamentals 
of  the  faith ;  nor,  where  the  differences  were  the  greatest 
between  himself  and  others,  did  he  for  a  moment  forget 
that  "charity  which  is  the  bond  of  perfectness."  He 
believed  that  a  strong  vein  of  piety  ran  through  the  life 
and  death  of  many  Romanists,  the  monks  of  La  Trappe, 
and  Ignatius  Loyola  himself.  He  believed  that  Pelagius, 
the  Montanists,  and  other  early  heretics,  as  they  are  called, 
might  be  wise  and  holy  men  despite  their  ignominious 
reputation;  and  while  he  vindicates  the  orthodoxy  of 
Michael  Servetus,  has,  in  the  same  breath,  a  word  of  com- 
mendation for  John  Calvin :  "  I  believe  that  Calvin  was  a 
great  instrument  of  God;  and  that  he  was  a  wise  and 
pious  man."  His  enlarged  charity  deemed  the  heathen 
capable  of  eternal  life,  and  opened  heaven  even  to  the 
brute  creation.  Wesley  was  a  man  to  be  loved.  In  these 
speculative  views  he  may  have  been  right  or  wrong ;  but 
they  are  an  index  to  his  soul,  and  prove  that  whatever 
else  he  may  have  been  he  was  certainly  not  a  narrow 
sectarist  nor  a  cruel  bigot.  In  all  the  atlases  in  his 
library  there  was  not  one  little  map  devoted  to  a  Meth- 
odist heaven.  The  distinctive  point  of  his  Arminian  creed, 
that  redemption  is  for  the  world,  proves  him  to  have  been 
a  person  of  large,  generous,  all-comprehending  sympathy 
and  love.  His  sentiments  on  ecclesiastical  controversy 
are  so  apposite  that  we  must  do  ourselves  the  pleasure  of 
adducing  them : — 

"  We  may  die  without  the  knowledge  of  many  truths, 
and  yet  be  carried  into  Abraham's  bosom ;  but  if  we  die 
without  love  what  will  knowledge  avail  ?  Just  as  much  as 
it  avails  the  devil  and  his  angels !  I  will  not  quarrel  with 


66  JOHN    WESLEY. 

you  about  any  opinion ;  only  see  that  your  heart  be  right 
toward  God,  that  you  know  and  love  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  that  you  love  your  neighbour,  and  walk  as  your 
Master  walked,  and  I  desire  no  more.  I  am  sick  of  opin- 
ions; I  am  weary  to  bear  them;  my  soul  loathes  this 
frothy  food.  Give  me  solid  and  substantial  religion ;  give 
me  an  humble  and  gentle  lover  of  God  and  man,  a  man 
full  of  mercy  and  good  fruits,  without  partiality  and  with- 
out hypocrisy ;  a  man  laying  himself  out  in  the  work  of 
faith,  the  patience  of  hope,  the  labour  of  love.  Let  my 
soul  be  with  these  Christians,  wheresoever  they  are,  and 
whatsoever  opinion  they  are  of.  'Whosoever  thus  doth 
the  will  of  my  Father  which  is  in  heaven,  the  same  is  my 
brother  and  sister  and  mother.' " 

And  we  add,  capping  this  declaration  with  our  heart's 
heartiest  approval,  let  every  one  that  readeth  this  say 
Amen.  "We  regret  that  our  space  will  not  allow  us  to 
transfer  to  our  pages  the  fine  anecdote  of  the  casual  inter- 
view between  the  venerable  Charles  Simeon,  then  a  young 
Calvinistic  clergyman,  and  the  aged  apostle  of  Methodism, 
so  creditable  to  the  wisdom  and  piety  of  both.  Our 
readers  who  may  not  be  acquainted  with  it  are  referred  to 
the  Memoir  of  Simeon  by  Carus. 

Unlike  many,  unlike  most  enduring  celebrities,  Wesley 
was  successful,  popular,  appreciated  during  his  lifetime, 
nor  had  to  wait  for  posthumous  praise.  This  was  doubt- 
less owing  in  part  to  the  practical  bent  his  genius  took, 
which  was  calculated  to  win  popular  regard,  but  also  to 
the  unequalled  excellence  he  displayed  in  the  line  he  had 
chosen.  The  man  who  was  known  to  have  travelled  more 
miles,  preached  more  sermons,  and  published  more  books 
than  any  traveller,  preacher,  author,  since  the  days  of  the 


JOHN    WESLEY.  67 

apostles,  must  have  had  much  to  claim  the  admiration  and 
respect  of  his  contemporaries.  The  man  who  exhibited 
the  greatest  disinterestedness  all  his  life  through,  who  has 
exercised  the  widest  influence  on  the  religious  world,  who 
has  established  the  most  numerous  sect,  invented  the  most 
efficient  system  of  Church  polity,  who  has  compiled  the 
best  book  of  sacred  song,  and  who  has  thus  not  only 
chosen  eminent  walks  of  usefulness,  but  in  every  one  of 
them  claims  the  first  place,  deserved  to  be  regarded  by 
them  and  by  posterity  as  no  common  man. 


ft  * 


4 
* 


V»W|[ULGABG   RB 


Bishop  of  ihe  MeihwiisL  Episcopal  Chtirch. 


LATE    SENIOR    BISHOP    OF    THE    METHODIST    EriSCOTAL    CHURCH. 


BISHOP  M'KENDEEE  was  born  in  King  William  County, 
Virginia,  July  6,  1757.  We  know  little  of  the  events  of 
his  early  life.  He  joined  the  patriots  of  the  Revolution, 
and  attained,  it  is  said,  the  rank  of  adjutant  in  the  army. 
During  a  season  of  remarkable  religious  interest  in  Vir- 
ginia, in  1787,  he  became  seriously  concerned  for  his  soul. 
Twelve  hundred  members  were  added  to  the  Church  on 
the  Brunswick  Circuit,  which  included  the  place  of  his 
residence,  under  the  preaching  of  Rev.  John  Easter,  a  man 
of  note  in  those  days.  M'Kendree,  who  had  before  been 
deeply  impressed  with  religious  convictions,  says : — 

"My  convictions  were  renewed.  They  were  deep  and 
pungent.  The  great  deep  of  the  heart  was  broken  up.  Its 
deceit  and  desperately  wicked  nature  was  disclosed,  and 
the  awful,  the  eternally  ruinous  consequences,  clearly  ap- 
peared. My  repentance  was  sincere.  I  became  willing, 
and  was  desirous  to  be  saved  on  any  terms.  After  a  sore 
and  sorrowful  travail  of  three  days,  which  were  employed 
in  hearing  Mr.  Easter,  and  in  fasting  and  prayer,  while  the 
man  of  God  was  showing  a  large  congregation  the  way  of 
salvation  by  faith,  with  a  clearness  which  at  once  aston- 
ished and  encouraged  me,  I  ventured  my  all  upon  Christ. 


YO  WILLIAM    M'KENDKEE. 

In  a  moment  my  soul  was  relieved  of  a  burden  too  heavy 
to  be  borne,  and  joy  instantly  succeeded  sorrow.  For  a 
short  space  of  time  I  was  fixed  in  silent  adoration,  giving 
glory  to  God  for  his  unspeakable  goodness  to  such  an  un- 
worthy creature." 

From  this  happy  change  he  passed  on  to  higher  expe- 
riences. The  doctrine  of  entire  sanctification  was  then 
preached,  perhaps  more  faithfully  than  now,  by  our  min- 
istry. He  received  this  great  truth,  and  resolutely  sought 
to  attain  its  experimental  knowledge.  "Eventually,"  he 
writes,  "  I  obtained  deliverance  from  unholy  passions,  and 
found  myself  possessed  of  ability  to  resist  temptation,  to 
take  up  and  bear  the  cross,  and  to  exercise  faith  and  pa- 
tience, and  all  the  graces  of  the  Spirit  in  a  manner  before 
unknown." 

He  subsequently  became  impressed  with  the  thought 
that  it  was  his  duty  to  enter  the  itinerant  ministry. 
He  hesitated,  however,  at  the  responsibility  of  the  work. 
Conflicts  profound  and  most  harassing  followed;  at  last, 
driven  by  his  feelings,  he  visited  his  friend,  Rev.  Mr.  Easter, 
and  travelled  some  time  the  circuit  with  him ;  but  again 
hesitating,  he  retreated  to  his  home,  resolved  to  resume  his 
secular  pursuits.  He  found  no  rest  there,  however,  and 
finally  gave  himself  to  the  Virginia  Conference,  and  was 
appointed  by  Asbury  to  Mecklenburgh  Circuit.  He  writes : 

"  I  went  immediately  to  the  circuit  to  which  I  was  ap- 
pointed, relying  more  on  the  judgment  of  experienced 
ministers,  in  whom  I  confided,  than  on  any  clear  convic- 
tion of  my  call  to  the  work ;  and  when  I  yielded  to  their 
judgment  I  firmly  resolved  not  to  deceive  them,  and  to 
retire  as  soon  as  I  should  be  convinced  that  I  was  not  called 
of  God,  and  to  conduct  myself  in  such  a  manner  that,  if  I 


WILLIAM    M'KENDKEE.  71 

failed,  my  friends  might  be  satisfied  it  was  not  for  want  of 
effort  on  my  part,  but  that  their  judgment  was  not  well 
founded.  This  resolution  supported  me  under  many  doubts 
and  fears — for  entering  into  the  work  of  a  travelling  preacher 
neither  removed  my  doubts  nor  the  difficulties  that  attended 
my  labours.  Sustained  by  a  determination  to  make  a  full 
trial,  I  resorted  to  fasting  and  prayer,  and  waited  for  those 
kind  friends  who  had  charge  and  government  over  me  to 
dismiss  me  from  the  work.  But  I  waited  in  vain.  In  this 
state  of  suspense  my  reasoning  might  have  terminated  in 
discouraging  and  ruinous  conclusions,  had  I  not  been  com- 
forted and  supported  by  the  kind  and  encouraging  manner 
in  which  I  was  received  by  aged  and  experienced  brethren, 
and  by  the  manifest  presence  of  God  in  our  meetings,  which 
were  frequently  lively  and  profitable.  Sometimes  souls 
were  convicted  and  converted,  which  afforded  me  consid- 
erable encouragement,  as  well  as  the  union  and  communion 
with  my  Saviour  in  private  devotion,  which  he  graciously 
afforded  me  in  the  intervals  of  my  very  imperfect  attempts 
to  preach  his  gospel.  In  this  way  I  became  satisfied  of  my 
call  to  the  ministry,  and  that  I  was  moving  in  the  line  of 
my  duty." 

His  next  appointment  was  Cumberland  Circuit.  At  the 
following  Conference  (1790)  he  was  sent  to  Portsmouth 
Circuit,  and  the  year  following  to  Amelia  Circuit.  When 
this  year's  labours  were  closed,  having  served  four  years  in 
the  travelling  connexion,  he  was  elected  and  ordained  an 
elder.  His  appointment  from  this  Conference  was  to  the 
Greensville  Circuit,  and  he  was  placed  in  charge ;  that  is, 
he  had  the  direction  of  the  ministerial  work  performed  on 
the  circuit.  Mr.  M'Kendree  had  already  taken  a  position 
among  the  preachers  of  his  day,  that,  considering  his  short 


72  WILLIAM     M'KENDKEE. 

period  in  the  work,  was  most  creditable  to  him.  A  short 
time  in  the  ministry  was  sufficient  for  his  fellow-labourers 
to  discover  and  acknowledge  his  noble  earnestness  and 
superior  abilities  as  a  preacher  of  "Jesus  a/nd  the  resurrec- 
tion." 

Mr.  M'Kendree  remained  at  his  post  till  the  General 
Conference  was  to  assemble  in  Baltimore,  in  November, 
1792.  At  that  time  all  the  preachers  in  full  connexion 
were  considered  members ;  now  only  delegates  are  elected 
to  represent  the  mass.  This  Conference  possesses  consid- 
erable historical  interest,  from  an  attempt  made  by  one 
of  the  members,  Mr.  O'Kelly,  to  restrict  the  power  of 
the  bishops  in  the  work  of  appointing  preachers.  Mr. 
O'Kelly  was  a  very  popular  preacher,  who  had  been 
presiding  elder  for  a  number  of  years  in  the  southern  part 
of  Virginia,  and  had  greatly  ingrafted  his  scheme  in  the 
affections  of  the  people,  and  the  younger  preachers  in  that 
portion  of  the  State.  The  scheme,  after  three  days  spent 
in  strong  debates  upon  its  merits,  entirely  failed.  The 
failure  of  the  project  was  immediately  followed  by  the 
withdrawal  of  Mr.  O'Kelly  and  quite  a  number  of  his 
friends,  among  whom  was  young  M'Kendree. 

It  appears,  from  a  conversation  with  Mr.  M'Kendree, 
reported  in  "  Smith's  Recollections,"  that  the  character  of 
Bishop  Asbury  had  been  shamefully  misrepresented  to 
him  by  Mr.  O'Kelly,  and  that  on  this  account  he  obtained 
leave  to  travel  with  the  bishop,  and,  indeed,  made  it  the 
condition  of  his  remaining  in  the  itinerancy.  It  is  quite 
needless  to  say  that  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  the 
beloved  bishop  created  a  confidence  and  friendship  which 
each  succeeding  year  cemented  the  more  surely,  till  death, 
at  last,  separated  them  for  a  few  years.  His  continuance 


WILLIAM    M'KKNDKEE.  73 

with  the  bishop  was  short,  for  in  a  few  weeks  he  accepted 
an  appointment  to  Norfolk  and  Portsmouth  Stations,  which 
were  that  year  united  together. 

From  this  time  Mr.  M'Kendree  devoted  himself  dili- 
gently to  a  comprehensive  examination  of  the  rules  and 
discipline  drawn  up  by  Mr.  Wesley,  and  adopted  at  the 
organization  of  our  Church.  This  examination  convinced 
him  that  it  was  particularly  adapted  to  evangelize  all  por- 
tions of  the  country,  and  was  agreeable  to  the  government 
and  regulations  of  the  primitive  Church.  From  this  time 
forth  none  used  their  influence  and  talents  to  preserve  the 
government  as  it  was  more  than  he  did. 

His  stay  at  Norfolk  was  not  long;  for  Bishop  Asbury 
removed  him  to  Petersburgh,  which  place  he  occupied 
to  the  close  of  the  Conference  year.  As  the  bishop 
went  south  on  his  annual  tour,  for  the  year  1794,  he  took 
M'Kendree  with  him  to  fill  a  place  on  Union  Circuit,  in 
the  South  Carolina  Conference.  Here  he  remained  only 
one  year,  for  at  the  next  Conference  he  was  appointed  to 
Bedford  Circuit,  in  the  bounds  of  the  Virginia  Conference. 
At  the  commencement  of  the  third  quarter  he  was  removed 
to  Greenbrier  Circuit,  in  the  midst  of  the  Alleghany  Moun- 
tains ;  and  at  the  end  of  the  same  quarter  he  was  transferred 
to  what  was  called  the  Little  Levels,  on  the  Kanawha  River, 
and  the  farthest  extremity  of  the  Virginia  Conference. 
Surely  this  was  itinerancy  in  such  a  manner  as  would 
frighten  many  of  his  followers  in  this  day ;  but  such  was 
the  zeal  of  the  preachers  then,  that  they  delighted  in  the 
most  self-denying  labours. 

His  name  is  found  on  the  printed  minutes  of  1795,  as 
appointed  to  Botetourt  Circuit.  He  was  in  charge  of  four 
circuits,  and  travelled  three  months  on  each  one  of  them — 


74  WILLIAM    M'KENDKEE. 

a  feature  in  our  work  which  at  the  present  time  has  been 
entirely  laid  aside.  This  year's  labour  was  a  good  intro- 
duction to  his  future  position  as  presiding  elder. 

At  the  Conference  of  1796  he  was  appointed  presiding 
elder  of  Kichmond  District,  which  consisted  of  five  large 
circuits,  lying  in  the  eastern  and  southern  parts  of  Virginia. 
The  office  of  presiding  elder  is  one  of  great  responsibility,  and 
at  that  early  day  in  our  history  it  was  one  of  most  arduous 
duties,  next  in  labours  and  importance  to  the  bishopric. 
Presiding  elders  had  to  travel  over  the  whole  district  each 
quarter,  holding  a  quarterly  meeting  on  each  circuit,  and 
preaching  many  times  going  and  coming,  the  people 
always  considering  it  a  favour  to  sit  under  their  preaching. 
The  office,  then,  required  a  man  of  great  physical  strength, 
of  good  or  superior  preaching  talents,  and  a  comprehensive 
mind,  so  that  all  the  interests  of  his  district  would  be  cared 
for  according  to  their  relative  importance.  Such  a  man 
was  Mr.  M'Kendree — fully  competent  for  its  duties  and  for 
its  trials. 

He  continued  to  preside  over  this  district  three  years; 
but  at  the  close  of  the  first  year  there  were  added  to  it 
three  more  circuits,  in  the  extreme  western  parts  of  the 
Conference.  These  circuits  lay  in  the  mountainous  regions, 
where  the  settlements  were  as  yet  few,  and  the  difficulties 
of  travelling  very  great.  His  ministry  was  greatly  blessed 
to  the  good  of  the  whole  district;  many  sinners  were 
awakened,  converted,  and  added  to  the  Church,  and  the 
field  of  labour  was  enlarged. 

In  1799  he  was  removed  to  the  Baltimore  Conference, 
and  placed  over  a  large  district,  containing  nine  circuits, 
lying  along  the  Potomac  River,  in  the  States  of  Maryland 
and  Yirginia,  and  extending  from  the  Alleghany  Moun- 


WILLIAM    M  'KEN  DREE.  75 

tains  on  the  west,  to  the  Chesapeake  Bay  on  the  east.  At 
the  close  of  the  year  he  was  transferred  back  to  his  former 
field  of  labour,  the  Kichmond  District.  This  was  the  last 
district  to  which  he  received  an  appointment  in  the  East- 
ern States. 

Mr.  M'Kendree  had  not  more  than  completed  the  first 
round  on  his  district,  arranging  the  work,  and  receiving 
the  congratulations  of  his  old  friends,  when  Bishops  Asbury 
and  Whatcoat  passed  through  his  district,  on  their  western 
tour  to  visit  the  Conference  and  circuits  west  of  the  Alle- 
ghany  Mountains.  Mr.  Poythress,  who  had  been  in 
charge  of  the  Kentucky  District  for  some  years,  was  failing 
both  in  body  and  mind.  The  work  was  a  very  important 
one,  lying  so  far  from  the  centre,  and  the  bishops  had 
selected  Mr.  M'Kendree  to  fill  the  office  of  presiding 
elder. 

They  immediately  opened  their  designs  to  him,  and  he 
seems  readily  to  have  fallen  in  with  them,  for  in  about 
three  hours  the  whole  business  was  arranged,  and  they 
started  off  on  their  journey.  Mr.  M'Kendree  says,  speak- 
ing of  it  at  least  thirty  years  after : — 

"  I  was  without  my  money,  books,  or  clothes.  These 
were  all  at  a  distance,  and  I  had  no  time  to  go  after  them ; 
but  I  was  not  in  debt,  therefore  unembarrassed.  Of  mon- 
eys due  me  I  collected  one  hundred  dollars,  bought  cloth 
for  a  coat,  carried  it  to  Holston,  and  left  it  with  a  tailor  in 
the  bounds  of  my  new  district.  The  bishops  continued 
their  course  :  my  business  was  to  take  care  of  their  horses, 
and  wait  on  them,  for  they  were  both  infirm  old  men." 

They  passed  southward  on  their  journey  through  Abing- 
ton,  and  from  thence  down  the  Holston  River,  into  Tennes- 
see, crossing  over  into  the  Valley  of  Clinch  River.  They 


76  WILLIAM    M'KENDKEE. 

reached  the  station,  on  the  outskirts  of  the  settlements,  and 
forming  a  company  with  some  others,  on  Monday,  Septem- 
ber 27,  1800,  they  began  their  route  direct  to  Kentucky. 
They  pushed  forward  with  all  possible  speed,  and  on  Fri- 
day crossed  the  Kentucky  River.  The  next  day  they  came 
to  Bethel  Academy,  in  Jessamine  County,  where  there  was 
also  one  of  the  largest  societies  in  the  West.  The  weather 
was  very  unfavourable,  and  the  bishops  were  both  unwell, 
especially  Bishop  Asbury ;  but  the  young  men  stood  the 
journey  with  much  fortitude. 

The  Western  Conference,  for  the  year  1800,  was  held 
about  the  first  of  October,  in  the  Bethel  Academy,  in  Ken- 
tucky. This  is  the  first  Western  Conference  of  which  we 
have  any  correct  minutes  preserved,  and  we  will  glance  at 
it  a  moment.  It  appears  from  the  minutes,  that  the  num- 
ber of  travelling  preachers  present  at  the  Conference, 
including  the  two  bishops,  was  ten.  The  Conference  lasted 
two  days ;  two  preachers  were  admitted  on  trial,  one 
located ;  fourteen  local,  and  four  travelling  ministers  were 
elected  and  ordained  to  the  office  of  deacon  in  the  Church. 
Of  those  who  were  present,  now,  after  a  period  of  fifty-one 
years,  two  are  still  living,  William  Burke  and  Benjamin 
Northcot.  Two  others  who  were  members  of  the  Confer- 
ence, but  not  present,  are  still  living, — Henry  Smith  and 
Thomas  Wilkerson. 

Immediately  after  the  adjournment  of  the  Conference, 
the  bishops,  M'Kendree,  and  the  preachers  whose  work  lay 
along  this  route,  made  a  visit  to  a  great  portion  of  the 
societies.  They  passed  from  the  centre  of  Kentucky, 
south-westwardly,  to  Nashville,  the  capital,  of  Tennessee, 
and  there  they  came,  for  the  first  time,  in  contact  with  a 
camp-meeting.  They  travelled  on  together,  preaching  and 


WILLIAM    M'KENDREE.  77 

informing  themselves  of  the  moral  character  and  the  wants 
of  the  country,  till  they  came  to  Knoxville.  After  spend- 
ing a  few  days  there,  they  parted — the  bishops  to  attend 
the  Carolina  Conferences,  and  M'Kendree  to  commence  his 
"  rounds  "  of  quarterly  visitation. 

The  Kentucky  District  was  composed  of  thirteen  cir- 
cuits, some  of  which  were  temporarily  joined  together  for 
the  convenience  of  the  presiding  elder.  Of  these  thirteen 
circuits,  two,  Miami  and  Scioto,  lay  in  the  State  of  Ohio, 
stretching  along  the  Ohio  River  about  one  hundred  miles, 
and  reaching  back  into  the  interior  as  far  as  seventy  miles. 
Six  of  the  circuits  lay  in  the  State  of  Kentucky,  three  in 
Tennessee,  and  two  in  Virginia.  This  territory  now  in- 
cludes nearly  six  Conferences,  supporting  several  hundred 
preachers ;  but  at  that  time  M'Kendree  had  but  thirteen 
assistants  in  traversing  the  wide  field.  Nothing  but  the 
deepest  devotion  to  the  glorious  labour  of  salvation  could 
have  sustained  them  in  their  arduous  work. 

Mr.  M'Kendree  entered  upon  his  western  labours  with 
all  the  ardour  of  his  energetic  nature,  and  the  influence  of 
his  example  was  soon  felt  in  the  ranks  of  his  itinerant 
brethren ;  for  they  saw  that  a  leader  of  such  activity  and 
energy  would  never  be  content  with  any  sluggish  move- 
ment in  his  ranks. 

The  first  year  that  M'Kendree  spent  in  Kentucky  was 
one  of  great  labour  and  great  success.  The  Church  was 
no  longer  languid ;  a  new  spirit  seemed  to  be  infused  into 
her,  and  victory  perched  upon  her  banners  wherever  they 
were  elevated.  Souls  were  converted,  and  societies  estab- 
lished in  everjj  new  settlement. 

In  the  summer  of  1802  Mr.  M'Kendree  made  his  first 
visit  to  the  State  of  Ohio,  in  company  with  Mr.  Henry 


Y8  WILLIAM     M'KKNDKEE. 

Smith,  who  was  then  on  Miami  and  Scioto  Circuits,  occu- 
pying all  the  south-western  part  of  Ohio,  the  region  that 
includes  the  first  Methodist  church  in  Ohio,  the  ruins  of 
which  still  remain,  a  striking  contrast  with  the  hundreds 
of  commodious  Methodist  chapels  now  sprinkled  over  the 
State.  They  went  over  a  portion  of  the  ground,  preaching 
near  Hillsborough,  and  then  passing  down  to  Gatch's,  on 
the  Little  Miami  River,  where  the  quarterly  meeting  was 
to  be  held. 

"  Our  worthy  M'Kendree  preached  one  of  his  soul-stir- 
ring and  heart-searching  sermons  to  a  large  congregation 
for  that  country.  It  was  a  time  of  power  and  love — a  soul- 
reviving  season ;  and  some  shouted  aloud  for  joy.  To  this 
meeting  many  came  from  far — some  on  foot,  others  on 
horseback ;  but  on  Sunday,  the  20th,  (June,)  the  congrega- 
tion was  gathered  under  the  trees,  where  a  stand  and  a  few 
seats  had  been  prepared.  Those  who  had  no  seats  stood 
or  sat  on  the  ground.  M'Kendree  preached  one  of  his  in- 
genious and  overwhelming  sermons,  from  Jeremiah  viii,  22. 
He  took  hold  of  the  doctrine  of  unconditional  election  and 
reprobation,  and  held  it  up  in  its  true  character.  His 
arguments  were  unanswerable ;  and  such  was  the  divine 
influence  attending  the  word,  that  he  carried  the  whole 
congregation  with  him.  The  very  place  appeared  to  be 
shaken  with  the  power  of  God.  The  people  fell  in  every 
direction." 

This  meeting  resulted  in  much  good.  The  work  in 
Ohio,  from  a  variety  of  causes  over  which  the  circuit 
preacher  had  no  control,  had  been  for  some  time  in  a  lan- 
guid state ;  but  from  this  meeting  they  wer,e  roused  up  to 
a  redoubling  of  their  diligence,  and  the  cause  began  to 
prosper.  But  this  is  not  an  isolated  instance  of  M'Ken- 


WILLIAM    M'KENDREE.  79 

dree's  success.  His  approach  to  the  quarterly  meetings 
was  hailed  by  both  preachers  and  people  with  delight,  and 
the  spirit  of  revival  seemed  to  follow  in  his  footsteps. 

At  the  close  of  M'Kendree's  second  year  on  the  western 
work  it  had  become  greatly  enlarged ;  seven  new  circuits 
had  been  formed  and  added  to  the  district,  and  the  district 
itself  divided  into  three,  M'Kendree  still  presiding  on  the 
one  including  the  most  of  the  State  of  Kentucky. 

The  mere  handful  of  members,  scattered  here  and  there 
in  the  settlements,  now  numbered  at  least  eight  thousand, 
having  increased  more  than  five  thousand  in  the  two  years. 
The  little  Conference  of  twelve  members  had  more  than 
doubled  its  numbers.  No  small  part  of  the  impetus  which 
had  been  given  to  the  western  work  was  through  the 
preaching  and  superior  wisdom  of  M'Kendree,  as  the  pre- 
siding elder. 

The  Conference  of  1804  met  at  Mount  Garrison,  in  Ken- 
tucky. It  was  the  design  of  both  the  bishops  to  be  present, 
and  they  set  out  for  the  West  by  the  way  of  Pittsburgh, 
Bishop  Asbury  in  the  advance.  He  was  taken  down 
with  bilious  fever  in  Green  County,  Pennsylvania,  and  so 
severe  was  his  affliction  that  Bishop  Whatcoat,  when  he 
came  to  him,  was  compelled  to  remain  and  nurse  him  for 
more  than  a  month.  After  his  sickness  they  started  on 
together,  but  the  riding  of  less  than  a  hundred  miles  con- 
vinced Bishop  Asbury  that  it  was  impossible  to  go  on. 
Bishop  Whatcoat,  therefore,  proceeded  alone,  but  did  not 
reach  the  seat  of  Conference  until  it  was  adjourned.  The 
Conference  had  met,  and  placed  M'Kendree  in  the  chair, 
where  he  had  presided  with  a  dignity  and  efficiency  simi- 
lar to  that  which  marked  his  course  when  it  became  his 
regular  duty. 


80  WILLIAM     M'KENDREE. 

It  is  quite  impossible  to  give  a  circumstantial  account  of 
the  labours  of  M'Kendree  in  the  West.  It  is  probably 
enough  to  say  concerning  his  regular  employment,  that  he 
gave  great  efficiency  to  the  presiding  eldership.  He  did 
not  simply  as  much  as  his  fellow-labourers  expected  of  him, 
as  belonging  to  his  office,  but  he  was  in  labours  more 
abundant  than  any  one  of  them.  At  the  Conference  of 
1805  he  was  removed  to  the  Cumberland  District.  This 
district  lay  between  the  Cumberland  and  Tennessee  Elvers, 
and  west  of  the  mountain  ranges,  and  was  composed  of 
eight  circuits,  one  of  which  was  in  the  State  of  Illinois. 
The  work  of  the  Lord  continued  to  increase  in  every  direc- 
tion. The  year  following  the  missionaries  penetrated  into 
Missouri. 

In  the  summer  of  1807  M'Kendree  resolved  to  visit  these 
new  fields  of  labour,  and  started  off  in  company  with  two 
of  the  preachers.  They  crossed  the  Ohio  River  from  the 
lower  part  of  Kentucky,  into  the  State  now  called  Illinois, 
but  then  forming  a  part  of  the  great  North-west  Territory. 
The  place  where  they  crossed  the  river  was  near  the  pres- 
ent site  of  Shawneetown.  Hence  they  proceeded  west  to 
Kaskaskia,  upon  the  Kaskaskia  River,  preaching  at  every 
place  where  they  could  find  any  people  to  listen  to  the 
word  of  salvation. 

The  journey  had  its  difficulties ;  but  when  the  work  of  the 
Lord  prospered  the  travellers  counted  all  their  losses  and 
sufferings  great  gain.  They  had  to  encamp  in  the  woods 
almost  every  night;  cross  many  rapid  and  dangerous 
streams,  where  the  horse  had  to  swim  with  both  rider  and 
baggage ;  but  a  season  of  prayer,  and  communion  with 
the  Most  High,  made  them  quite  forget  their  toil  and  ex- 
posure. It  is  said  that  after  Mr.  M'Kendree  had  preached, 


WILLIAM    M'KENDREE.  81 

with  his  usual  ability,  at  one  of  his  appointments,  a  gentle- 
man said  to  him:  "Sir,  I  am  convinced  that  there  is  a 
divine  influence  in  your  religion ;  for  though  I  have  resided 
here  some  years,  and  have  done  all  within  my  power  to 
gain  the  confidence  and  good-will  of  my  neighbours,  you 
have  already  many  more  friends  here  than  I  have."  Mr. 
M'Kendree  spent  some  weeks  in  the  two  States,  and  then 
returned,  much  encouraged,  to  his  district. 

The  Conference  of  1807,  which  was  held  in  the  town  of 
Chillicothe,  Ohio,  elected  him  a  delegate  to  the  ensuing 
General  Conference,  which  was  to  be  held  in  Baltimore, 
in  May,  1808.  It  was  then  that  his  labours  in  the  West 
closed,  and  it  may  be  well  to  glance  at  the  increase  of  the 
Church  during  the  time  in  which  he  was  connected 
with  it. 

The  field  of  labour  had  grown  from  one  district  into 
five,  and  it  now  reached  from  Natchez  on  the  south  to 
Marietta  on  the  north,  from  East  Tennessee  on  the  east 
to  Missouri  on  the  west.  Instead  of  having  only  eight 
men,  as  at  the  beginning,  to  stand  up  and  proclaim 
the  gospel,  as  many  as  sixty-six  were  proclaiming  the 
glad  tidings  to  the  western  settlements;  and  not  a  few 
of  these  were  men  of  strong  minds,  who  have  since 
occupied  important  positions  in  our  Church.  The  mem- 
bership increased  in  the  same  ratio;  less  than  three 
thousand  names  were  enrolled  when  he  entered  on  the 
work,  but  now  there  were  more  than  sixteen  thousand. 
And  there  was  something  quite  as  encouraging  as  this; 
the  work,  mighty  as  it  was,  was  seemingly  but  com- 
menced, and  they  could  even  then,  with  some  certainty, 
prophesy  that  this  region  was  to  become  the  stronghold 

of  Methodism. 

6 


82  WILLIAM     M'KKNDRKK. 

The  General  Conference  of  1808  was  one  of  much  im- 
portance, especially  as  having  provided  for  the  regular 
delegated  Conference,  and  imposed  the  restrictive  rules 
which  are  now  part  of  the  constitution  of  our  Church. 

The  death  of  the  venerable  Bishop  Whatcoat,  and  the 
absence  from  the  continent  of  Dr.  Coke,  left  Bishop  Asbury 
alone  to  superintend  the  whole  work.  He  was  himself 
growing  too  old  for  the  performance  of  much  labour,  and 
it  was  evident  to  all  that  some  assistance  must  be  given 
him  in  the  exercise  of  his  yearly  toils.  At  first  a  motion 
was  made  to  restrict  the  presiding  elder's  office,  and  elect 
seven  additional  bishops ;  but  this  was  lost  by  a  large  vote. 
The  effort  was  then  made  to  secure  two  bishops ;  but  at 
last  a  motion  prevailed  to  elect  and  consecrate  only  one. 

When  Mr.  M'Kendree  came  to  the  General  Conference 
he  was  unknown  to  almost  all  the  younger  members,  both 
by  name  and  reputation.  He  had  been  so  far  removed 
from  the  centre  of  the  work  that  he  had  to  some  extent 
become  a  stranger  to  most  of  the  eastern  preachers,  and 
they  were  not  in  the  least  aware  of  his  magnificent  powers 
as  an  orator  and  divine.  Indeed,  his  elder  brethren,  who 
had  not  heard  him  for  seven  or  eight  years,  were  hardly 
prepared  for  the  improvement  he  had  made  during  his 
self-denying  labours  in  the  West;  but  on  the  Sabbath 
before  the  election  for  a  bishop  was  to  take  place,  he 
was  appointed  to  preach  in  the  morning  at  the  Light- 
street  Church. 

Bishop  Asbury,  who  was  present,  was  heard  to  say  that 
the  sermon  would  make  him  a  bishop,  and  his  prophecy 
was  true ;  for  on  the  12th  of  May,  the  day  that  the  resolu- 
tion passed  to  elect  and  consecrate  an  additional  bishop,  he 
was  elected.  The  number  of  votes  cast  was  one  hundred 


WILLIAM    M'KENDREE. 

and  twenty  -eight ;  of  those  Mr.  M'Kendree  had  ninety- 
five,  the  remainder  being  divided  between  E.  Cooper  and 
Jesse  Lee ;  it  was  the  largest  majority  by  which  any 
bishop  has  been  elected,  except  Bishop  Asbury.  He  was 
consecrated  to  the  office  of  bishop,  or  superintendent  of  the 
Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  on  the  17th  of  May,  1808,  in 
the  Light-street  Church,  by  Bishop  Asbury,  assisted  by 
Rev.  Messrs.  Garrettson,  Bruce,  Lee,  and  Ware,  who  were 
the  oldest  and  most  prominent  elders  in  the  ministry  at 
that  time. 

Bishop  M'Kendree  immediately  entered  upon  the  duties 
of  his  office  with  that  zeal  and  diligence  which  had  exalted 
him  in  the  eyes  of  his  brethren ;  and  Bishop  Asbury  felt 
himself  greatly  relieved,  both  in  the  active  duties  and 
responsibilities  which  had  been  resting  upon  him  since  the 
death  of  Bishop  Whatcoat.  Bishop  Asbury  remarks,  in  his 
journal:  "The  burden  is  now  borne  by  two  pair  of  shoul- 
ders instead  of  one ;  the  care  is  cast  upon  two  hearts  and 
heads." 

For  the  first  year  of  Bishop  M'Kendree's  exercise  of  the 
episcopal  office  he  was  almost  continually  with  Bishop  As- 
bury, who  introduced  him  to  the  work,  the  Conferences, 
and  the  preachers.  Their  route  took  in  nearly  all  parts 
of  the  United  States,  and  a  part  of  Canada,  and  required 
them  to  be  moving  in  all  seasons  of  the  year.  They  visited, 
prayed,  and  preached,  from  Maine  to  Georgia,  along  the 
sea-coast ;  on  the  north  and  west  they  skimmed  along  the 
lakes,  the  Ohio  and  Mississippi  Rivers ;  and  in  the  inte- 
rior their  steps  were  known  among  the  damp  swamps,  and 
rich  prairies,  and  magnificent  mountains  of  the  Alleghany 
ranges.  The  roads,  in  the  best  seasons,  were  but  poor — in 
the  wet  seasons  miserable.  They  lodged  sometimes  in  the 


84  WILLIAM   M'KENDREE. 

houses  of  the  rich,  but  quite  as  often  in  the  log-hut  or  cabin, 
and  not  unfrequently  they  camped  out  in  the  woods. 

The  following  extract  from  Bishop  Asbury's  journal  con- 
tains a  lively  picture  of  the  situation  and  thoughts  of  these 
two  devoted  and  talented  servants  of  God : — "  My  flesh 
sinks  under  labour.  We  are  riding  in  a  poor  thirty-dollar 
chaise,  in  partnership — two  bishops  of  us ;  but  it  must  be 
confessed  that  it  tallies  well  with  the  weight  of  our  purses. 
What  bishops !  Well — but  we  have  great  news,  and  we 
have  great  times;  and  each  Western,  Southern,  together 
with  the  Yirginia  Conference,  will  have  one  thousand  souls 
truly  converted  to  God.  Is  not  this  an  equivalent  for  a 
light  purse  ?  And  are  we  not  well  paid  for  starving  and 
toil  ?  Yes,  glory  to  God !" 

The  General  Conference  of  1812  met  in  New- York,  and 
was  composed  of  members  from  eight  Conferences — of  men 
whose  Christian  character  and  talents  had  placed  them  fore- 
most among  their  brethren.  The  growing  state  of  the  field 
seemed  to  call  for  an  addition  to  the  superintendency ;  but 
after  a  full  interchange  of  thoughts  it  was  considered  best 
to  let  the  subject  rest  as  it  was.  Bishop  Asbury  had  been 
meditating  a  visit  to  his  native  land ;  but  at  the  suggestion 
of  his  brethren  he  relinquished  the  idea,  and  remained  at 
his  post  in  the  itinerancy  as  efficiently  as  his  age  would 
allow. 

Within  a  month  after  the  adjournment  of  the  General 
Conference,  the  United  States  declared  war  against  Great 
Britain,  and  the  hostilities  occupied  the  minds  of  the  people, 
greatly  to  the  injury  of  the  work  of  the  Lord.  Bishop  As- 
bury continued,  however,  to  attend  the  Conferences,  in 
company  with  his  colleague,  upon  whom  devolved  by  far 
the  greater  part  of  the  labour ;  yet  the  presence  and  coun- 


WILLIAM    M'KENDREE.  85 

sel  of  the  senior  was  at  all  times  a  source  of  the  highest 
gratification.  The  bishops  pressed  on  together,  both  east 
and  west  of  the  mountains,  and  to  the  south,  where  the 
work  was  rapidly  extending.  So  great  was  their  energy 
and  activity,  that  in  the  tour  of  the  year  1812  they  trav- 
elled over  six  thousand  miles  in  eight  months,  attending 
the  sessions  of  nine  Conferences,  and  assisting  at  ten 
camp-meetings.  This  was  herculean  labour,  especially 
if  we  consider  how  poor  were  the  facilities  of  travel  in 
those  days. 

The  year  1813  was  marked  with  much  distress  along  the 
lines  between  the  Canadas  and  the  United  States,  on  account 
of  the  war,  and  it  aifected  the  societies  to  some  extent.  But 
it  did  not  stop  the  progress  of  the  work  elsewhere,  and  the 
bishops  were  pleased  to  see  that  there  was  a  great  increase 
in  the  members  for  the  year.  Bishop  Asbury  continued  to 
grow  weaker,  and  the  more  duties  fell  upon  the  shoulders 
of  Bishop  M'Kendree,  of  whom  he  spoke  in  terms  of  the 
highest  eulogy. 

The  summer  of  1814  found  the  bishops  quite  inefficient. 
Bishop  Asbury  was  seized  with  inflammatory  fever  at 
Bethel,  in  New-Jersey,  and  for  a  while  his  life  was  de- 
spaired of.  For  twelve  weeks  there  was  no  record  in  his 
journal,  yet  he  was  able  to  take  up  his  itinerant  course, 
and  be  at  Chillicothe,  Ohio,  by  the  latter  part  of  August. 
His  progress,  however,  was  by  slow  stages,  and  with  much 
pain. 

In  the  "West  he  found  Bishop  M'Kendree  confined  to  the 
house,  having  been  thrown  from  his  horse,  and  so  badly 
injured  that  his  usefulness  for  the  whole  season  was  de- 
stroyed. This  derangement,  however,  was  but  a  temporary 
one,  and  as  soon  as. the  bishops  were  able  they  passed  on 


86  WILLIAM   M'KENDREE. 

for  the  South,  and  presided  at  the  South  Carolina  Con- 
ference. 

From  this  time  forth  the  labour  of  the  superintendency 
was  confined  principally  to  Bishop  M'Kendree,  for  Asbury 
never  recovered  from  the  sickness  of  which  we  have  spoken. 
"His  countenance  was  fallen  and  pale;  his  limbs  trem- 
bled, and  his  whole  frame  bore  marks  of  decay.  Indeed, 
there  was  something  in  his  appearance  which,  while  it 
indicated  a  'soul  full  of  glory  and  of  God,'  struck  the 
beholder  with  an  awe  which  may  be  better  felt  than 
described." 

But  he  was  generally  at  his  post,  and  would  be  found  at 
the  Conference,  taking  his  accustomed  seat,  and  preaching 
one  sermon ;  but  beyond  this  his  labours  were  few,  except 
the  judicious  counsel  from  his  lips.  The  administration  of 
Bishop  M'Kendree  was  highly  satisfactory,  both  to  the 
preachers  and  the  membership,  and  he  had  already  ac- 
quired high  standing  in  his  office.  His  energy  and  self- 
sacrificing  spirit  animated  those  around  him  with  the  zeal 
which  is  necessary  to  the  itinerant  minister.  His  splendid 
preaching  talent  was  a  model  for  their  own ;  and  his  clear, 
cool  judgment,  was  a  worthy  example  of  the  manner  to 
rule  in  justice  and  wisdom. 

The  year  1816  opened  graciously,  for  peace  was  restored 
to  the  country ;  and  although  the  religious  world  had  not 
yet  recovered  from  the  calamity  of  war,  yet  the  prospect 
was  encouraging  that  a  general  revival  of  religion  was 
about  taking  place.  It  was,  however,  a  year  marked  in 
the  history  of  our  denomination  as  one  of  grief,  for  it 
marks  the  death  of  the  great  and  holy  Asbury. 

None  felt  this  loss  more  than  Bishop  M'Kendree — but 
not  because  of  the  additional  labour  imposed  upon  him : 


WILLIAM    M'KENDHEE.  87 

tliis  was  slight,  as  it  only  lacked  a  month  of  General 
Conference,  when  the  vacant  post  could  be  filled.  It 
should  be  mentioned  also  that  Dr.  Coke  had  died  on 
the  3d  of  May,  1814.  This  left  the  whole  responsi- 
bility of  the  episcopacy  resting  on  Bishop  M'Kendree. 

The  General  Conference  of  1816  met  at  Baltimore,  and 
found  the  Church  with  only  one  bishop,  and  his  health 
greatly  impaired,  although  he  was  still  able  to  perform  the 
duties  of  his  office.  Bishop  M'Kendree  opened  the  Con- 
ference with  an  address,  in  which  he  set  forth  the  general 
state  of  the  work,  and  the  necessity  of  making  some  addi- 
tions to  the  superintendency. 

The  committee  to  whom  the  latter  portion  of  the 
address  was  referred,  reported  with  promptness,  and 
recommended  that  two  additional  bishops  be  elected 
and  consecrated.  Accordingly,  on  May  14th,  the  Con- 
ference proceeded  to  an  election,  and  Enoch  George,  of 
the  Baltimore  Conference,  and  Robert  R.  Roberts,  of  the 
Philadelphia  Conference,  were  elected,  and  in  due  time 
they  were  consecrated,  and  entered  upon  their  work.  It 
is  only  necessary  to  state,  that  the  new  bishops  were 
men  whose  piety,  talents,  and  particular  qualification  for 
the  office  were  well  known,  and  who  received  the  confi- 
dence of  the  whole  Church.  Their  subsequent  course,  as 
long  as  they  lived,-  showed  that  the  Church  had  acted 
wisely  in  their  election. 

The  General  Conference  had  established  the  Mississippi 
and  Missouri  Conferences,  making  the  whole  number 
eleven,  and  these  under  the  care  of  three  bishops.  It  had 
again  been  urged  by  some  that  it  would  be  for  the  best  to 
divide  the  work  and  appoint  a  bishop  to  each  portion,  but 
the  majority  were  in  favour  of  the  itinerant  superinten- 


88  WILLIAM    M'KENDREE. 

dency ;  and  the  bishops  arranged  their  labours  so  that  eacn 
one  of  them  would  be  present  at  each  Conference  at  least 
once  in  four  years.  Therefore  we  find  the  bishops  pursu- 
ing this  plan,  as  far  as  their  health  and  other  existing  cir- 
cumstances would  allow. 

As  we  have  already  stated,  the  health  of  Bishop  M'Ken- 
dree  had  begun  to  fail.  The  severe  toil  of  the  eight  years 
that  he  spent  in  Kentucky  had  slowly  but  surely  been 
working  on  his  constitution,  and  now  it  was  seen  that 
his  labours  must  be  restricted  to  some  extent,  for  he  was 
no  longer  able  to  render  that  efficient  service  which  the 
Church  so  much  desired ;  yet  he  moved  about  from  Con- 
ference to  Conference  as  his  strength  would  allow,  giving 
by  his  presence  a  new  impetus  to  the  work  in  every  direc- 
tion. His  colleagues  were  both  active  and  zealous,  and 
the  government  of  the  Church  was  administered  with 
fidelity.  The  Conferences  were  attended  with  punctuality, 
and  the  union,  peace,  and  prosperity  of  the  Church  were 
generally  secured  and  promoted,  while  their  services  were 
highly  appreciated  by  the  Church. 

In  the  fall  of  1818  Bishop  M'Kendree  set  out  for  the 
"West,  in  company  with  Joshua  Soule,  the  book-agent, 
intending  to  pay  especial  attention  to  the  extreme  western 
Conferences  and  the  Indian  Missions.  He  was  very  weak 
indeed,  but  he  pushed  forward  with  his  accustomed  energy 
until  he  grew  so  feeble  that  he  was  compelled  to  make  a 
halt.  His  affliction  was  very  sore,  and  lasted  a  considera- 
ble period ;  but  as  soon  as  it  was  possible  for  him  to  pro- 
ceed on  his  tour,  he  went,  pressing  on  through  a  host  of 
difficulties  that  would  have  disheartened  any  other  man. 
He  was  so  weak  as  to  be  compelled  to  move  very  slowly, 
and  he  had  to  be  lifted  from  and  into  his  wagon.  At  one 


WILLIAM   M'KENDKEE.  89 

of  the  Conferences  he  had  to  be  taken  from  his  bed  and 
supported  by  two  of  the  preachers  as  he  performed  the 
ceremonies  of  ordination. 

He  continued  passing  southward  till  he  was  at  the  last 
station  in  his  journey.  On  March  5th  he  preached  in 
New-Orleans,  to  a  large  audience,  from  one  of  his  favourite 
texts,  "  God  is  a  spirit :  and  they  that  worship  him  must 
worship  him  in  spirit  and  in  truth."  His  stay  there  was 
short,  when  he  turned  his  face  to  the  North,  that  he  might 
fill  his  engagements  to  meet  a  part  of  the  western  Confer- 
ences. As  he  was  coming  northward  he  sent  the  following 
letter  to  the  editors  of  the  Methodist  Magazine.  It  graphi- 
cally describes  western  itinerant  life  at  that  period : — 

"  CAMPED  IN  THE  CHOCTAW  NATION,  April  17,  1819. 

"  On  the  first  day  of  last  November,  I  sank  under  the 
affliction  which  was  pressing  me  down  while  in  company 
with  brother  Soule,  in  the  State  of  Ohio. 

"  After  a  sore  affliction,  I  left  the  neighbourhood  where 
I  had  been  confined,  in  a  very  feeble  state,  and  travelled 
about  one  hundred  miles,  and  continued  to  speak  occasion- 
ally, so  that  I  have  visited  New-Orleans,  and  partially 
attended  to  the  Churches  in  this  State.  For  a  few  weeks 
I  have  gained  strength  considerably.  It  is  the  opinion  of 
my  physician  that  I  should  go  to  the  North  for  the  estab- 
lishment of  my  health;  and  having  a  favourable  oppor- 
tunity, I  set  out  in  a  little  wagon,  from  brother  Gibson's 
last  Monday,  in  company  with  brothers  J.  Lane  and 
B.  Edge. 

"We  have  camped  near  companies  of  drunken  Indians 
— been  disturbed  to  see  their  situation,  and  incommoded 
with  their  visits  during  the  night;  but  never  injured  or 


90  WILLIAM    M'KENDREE. 

insulted ;  but  mercifully  preserved  so  far  through  our  difii- 
cult  journey,  and  from  night  to  night  blessed  with  the 
privilege  of  camping  peaceably  in  the  woods — a  situation 
very  favourable  for  contemplation.  "We  expect  to  reach 
the  settlements  eight  days  from  this,  at  our  rate  of  travel- 
ling. I  intend,  if  the  Lord  will,  to  attend  the  Ohio  Con- 
ference next  August.  I  would  be  with  you  in  ]STew-York, 
if  I  could ;  but  here  I  sit,  at  the  root  of  a  tree,  near  the 
line  between  the  Choctaw  and  Chickasaw  nations,  writing 
to  you,  while  brother  Lane  is  boiling  ham  and  making  tea 
for  dinner.  Some  of  our  company  were  much  alarmed 
last  night  by  the  sound  of  drunken  Indians ;  but  it  proved 
to  be  fear  where  no  fear  was.  We  rested  peaceably  in  the 
woods  near  an  Indian  hut. 

"  This  is  the  fourth  day  since  I  commenced  writing  this 
letter,  and  I  have  progressed  as  time  and  strength  would 
permit.  We  have  lain  in  the  woods  every  night,  except 
one  rainy  night  we  were  taken  into  the  cabin  of  a  slave 
belonging  to  an  Indian,  and  were  comforted.  It  has  been 
a  journey  of  difficulties;  but  no  serious  obstruction  has 
happened  to  us.  The  Lord  is  merciful  and  good  to  us. 
My  best  love  to  Bishop  Roberts,  and  respects  to  all.  We 
expect  to  reach  white  settlements  next  Saturday,  if  the 
Lord  permits.  Yours  affectionately." 

The  opening  of  the  General  Conference  of  1820  found 
Bishop  M'Kendree  at  his  post,  but  in  much  weakness; 
however,  he  opened  the  first  session  with  reading  the 
Scriptures,  singing,  and  prayer,  as  usual.  After  the  open- 
ing services  he  informed  the  Conference  that,  on  account 
of  his  weakness  and  ill  health,  he  would  not  be  able  to 
discharge  the  duties  of  chairman,  but  would  take  occasion 


WILLIAM    M'KENDKEE.  91 

to  assist  his  colleagues  in  the  responsible  business  of  the 
sessions,  as  his  health  would  permit.  At  a  subsequent 
session  he  presented  an  address,  in  which  he  called  atten- 
tion to  those  subjects  which  he  thought  claimed  especially 
their  attention.  The  Conference  took  every  possible  occa- 
sion to  show  him  their  sympathy  and  respect,  which  was  a 
source  of  no  small  consolation  to  him,  and  he  properly 
expressed  his  gratification  for  these  manifestations  of 
regard  and  love. 

The  number  of  Annual  Conferences  was  now  increased 
to  twelve;  these  were  divided  between  the  two  other 
bishops,  Bishop  M'Kendree,  as  we  have  seen,  being 
released  from  effective  labour.  His  colleagues  entered 
upon  their  work  with  much  zeal,  and  Bishop  M'Ken- 
dree was  not  backward  in  lending  them  all  the  assist- 
ance in  his  power.  He  had  the  missionary  department 
especially  assigned  to  himself,  in  which  he  took  a  deep 
and  absorbing  interest;  and  by  his  intimate  acquaint- 
ance with  all  parts  of  the  work,  was  very  able  to  direct 
the  means  and  energies  of  the  missionary  society  to  the 
right  points. 

His  bad  health  did  not  keep  him  from  visiting  the  whole 
work.  During  one  season  he  would  be  found  in  the  East- 
ern and  Middle  States ;  shortly  afterward  his  steps  could 
be  found  about  the  western  and  southern  waters,  passing 
along  slowly,  visiting  many  families,  conversing  freely 
with  them  on  religion,  and  supplicating  the  throne  of 
grace  in  their  behalf.  Now  and  then,  especially  on  the 
Sabbath  day,  he  preached  to  a  crowd  who  sat  rejoicing  to 
be  the  hearers  of  the  word  as  it  fell  from  his  lips.  He 
paid  special  attention  to  the  West,  for  he  felt  himself  more 
identified  with  that  portion  of  the  work  than  any  other,  it 


92  WILLIAM    M'KENDREE. 

having  been  his  field  of  labour  when  he  was  elected  to  the 
episcopal  office. 

The  General  Conference  of  1824,  at  Baltimore,  found 
Bishop  M'Kendree  present,  and  conducting  as  usual  its 
opening  ceremonies  with  singing  and  prayer. 

No  less  than  five  new  Conferences  were  set  off  by  this 
General  Conference,  increasing  the  labour  of  the  bishops 
very  materially.  The  committee  on  episcopacy,  therefore, 
in  presenting  their  report,  recommended  that  two  new 
bishops  be  elected  and  consecrated;  and  the  Conference 
elected  Joshua  Soule,  of  the  Baltimore,  and  Elijah  Hed- 
ding,  of  the  New-England  Conference.  Bishop  M'Ken- 
dree was  able  to  preach  the  consecration  sermon,  and  act 
as  the  officiating  bishop  in  the  consecration. 

The  Committee  on  Episcopacy  also  proposed  the  follow- 
ing resolution,  which  passed  unanimously : — 

"That  Bishop  M'Kendree  be,  and  hereby  is,  respect- 
fully requested  to  continue  to  aiford  what  aid  he  can  to 
the  episcopacy,  consistently  with  his  age  and  infirmities, 
when  and  where  it  may  best  suit  his  own  convenience; 
and  that  the  provisions  of  the  last  General  Conference  for 
meeting  his  contingent  expenses  be  continued." 

After  the  session  of  Conference,  Bishops  M'Kendree  and 
Soule  set  out  together,  and  made  a  tour  of  the  western 
work ;  and  paying  a  special  visit  to  the  Wyandott  Mission, 
entering  into  a  thorough  examination  of  its  whole  tem- 
poral and  spiritual  arrangements.  Contrary  to  the  expec- 
tations of  all,  Bishop  M'Kendree's  health  began  to  im- 
prove, and  he  was  able  to  enter  more  fully  on  that  labour 
in  which  he  desired  to  spend  and  be  spent. 

Although  the  health  of  the  bishop  was  greatly  improved, 
it  would  not  allow  him  to  perform  the  service  of  an  effect- 


WILLIAM    M'KENDREE.  1)3 

ive  officer.  He  was  too  far  advanced  in  years  ever  to 
recover  tlie  strength  and  activity  which  had  marked  the 
years  of  his  vigorous  manhood,  and  the  Church  could  only 
look  for  a  gradual  decline,  at  least  in  his  physical  powers, 
till  he  was  freed  from  the  sufferings  of  the  body.  It  was 
of  great  benefit  to  any  Conference  to  have  him  present  at 
its  seat,  even  if  he  was  absent  a  great  part  of  the  time  from 
the  Conference  room ;  for  the  most  unbounded  confidence 
was  placed  in  his  judgment  and  impartiality. 

Bishop  M'Kendree  was  present  at  the  General  Confer- 
ence of  1828,  at  Pittsburgh,  and  opened  the  services,  as 
had  been  his  custom  to  do  since  the  death  of  Asbury ;  and 
it  was  gratifying  to  see  that  his  prospect  for  length  of  days 
was  better  than  it  had  been  for  some  years.  The  bishops 
set  forth  in  their  address,  that  "  during  the  last  four  years 
it  has  pleased  the  great  Head  of  the  Church  to  continue 
his  heavenly  benediction  on  our  Zion.  The  work  has  been 
greatly  extended ;  many  new  circuits  and  districts  have 
been  formed  in  different  parts  of  our  vast  field  of  labour ; 
but  yet  there  is  room,  and  pressing  calls  for  much  greater 
enlargement  are  constantly  made. 

"The  great  and  extensive  revivals  of  religion  which  we 
have  experienced  the  last  three  years,  through  almost 
every  part  of  the  work,  furnish  additional  proof  'that 
God's  design  in  raising  up  the  preachers  called  Methodists, 
in  America,  was  to  reform  the  continent,  and  spread  Scrip- 
ture holiness  over  these  lands.'" 

The  labour  in  the  episcopacy  was  becoming  so  burden- 
some that  it  seemed  proper  to  increase  the  number  of 
bishops,  or  refrain  from  adding  to  their  labours.  Bishops 
M'Kendree,  Roberts,  and  Soule  presented  the  following 
paper  to  the  Conference : — 


94  WILLIAM    M'KENDKEE. 

"  Such  is  the  debility  of  several  of  the  bishops,  and  such 
the  extent  and  weight  of  the  episcopal  charge,  that  we 
think  it  would  be  incompatible  with  the  present  state  of 
things,  and  highly  improper,  to  increase  the  labours  of  the 
general  superintendents,  by  constituting  any  new  Confer- 
ence under  the  existing  circumstances,  and  that  it  ought 
not  to  be  done  without  the  concurrence  of  a  majority  of 
the  bishops."  This  failed,  however,  to  effect  the  end 
desired,  for,  at  the  instance  of  the  Committee  on  the  Bound- 
aries of  Conferences,  the  Oneida  Conference  was  formed, 
making  in  all  nineteen  Conferences  to  be  visited  by  the 
five  bishops. 

Bishop  M'Kendree,  in  bidding  farewell  to  the  members 
of  the  General  Conference  of  1828,  said  to  more  than  one 
that  his  days  were  so  rapidly  drawing  to  a  close  that  they 
must  not  be  surprised  if  they  saw  his  face  no  more.  He 
had  presided  but  little  during  the  Conference,  but  his 
presence  was  felt,  and  his  counsel  did  much  to  prepare, 
them  for  the  storm  then  breaking  about  their  heads.  After 
the  adjournment  of  Conference  he  proceeded  slowly  to  his 
labour,  for  itinerancy  had  become  as  it  were  a  necessity  of 
his  being,  and  his  health  appeared  much  better  when  he 
was  travelling  than  when  remaining  still. 

The  commencement  of  the  year  1830  found  him  at  New- 
Orleans,  from  which  place,  in  February,  he  wrote  to  the 
Book  Agents  at  New- York,  in  part  as  follows : — 

"  I  intend  to  stay  here  some  ten  or  twelve  days,  then 
take  steamboat  to  Bayou  Sara,  then  land  and  visit  the 
Churches  as  extensively  as  I  can  to  Natchez.  Thence  by 
steamboat  to  Nashville,  by  the  last  of  March.  From  Nash- 
ville, I  intend  to  resume  my  course  of  visiting  the  Churches 
through  the  lower  part  of  Kentucky,  Indiana,  and  Illinois. 


WILLIAM    M'KENDKEE.  95 

Thence  return  with  the  Conferences  from  the  West,  across 
the  mountains,  and  visit  the  Atlantic  States  and  Conferences. 

"  From  Philadelphia,  where  brother  Emory  left  me  last 
spring,  I  set  out  to  visit  the  Churches  as  extensively  as  ^ 
could,  through  Virginia,  Pennsylvania,  Ohio,  Kentucky, 
and  Tennessee,  where  I  expected  to  take  up  my  abode 
during  the  winter.  I  have  attended  three  Annual  Confer- 
ences, several  camp,  and  ten  or  twelve  quarterly  meetings. 
I  have  seen  great  and  very  good  times,  and  rejoiced  in  the 
prosperity  of  Zion.  For  want  of  a  steamboat  I  failed  to 
attend  the  Mississippi  Conference  as  I  intended." 

How  plainly  a  soul  full  of  undying  energy,  and  an .  un- 
conquerable zeal,  is  manifested  in  this  plan  of  labour.  He 
was  able  to  accomplish  only  a  part  of  it.  During  the 
spring  and  summer  after  his  return  from  the  South,  he 
was  not  able  to  visit  very  extensively,  but  he  attended  as 
many  popular  meetings,  and  preached  as  often  as  his 
strength  would  allow.  He  attended  the  Kentucky  Confer- 
ence, at  Russellville,  about  the  middle  of  October ;  and  he 
appears  to  have  now  laid  out  a  plan  of  visitation  which 
would  include  the  South  Carolina  and  all  the  Atlantic  and 
northern  Conferences.  His  design  was  to  proceed  by  slow 
stages  from  one  to  the  other,  and  complete  the  design  by 
the  sitting  of  the  General  Conference  of  1832,  which  was 
to  meet  at  Philadelphia. 

Those  of  his  friends  who  were  acquainted  with  the  pre- 
carious state  of  his  health,  readily  perceived  that  his 
physical  powers  would  not  admit  of  such  an  attempt ;  but 
as  his  whole  soul  was  seemingly  absorbed  in  its  accomplish- 
ment, they  were  willing  to  test  his  strength.  They  there- 
fore advised  him  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  approaching  session 
of  the  Holston  Conference,  which  would  test  his  ability  for 


96  WILLIAM    M'KENDREE. 

the  more  arduous  tour.  To  this  plan  he  yielded  with  the 
greatest  pleasure. 

The  distance  from  Russellville,  Ky.,  to  Ebenezer,  Green 
County,  Tenn.,  the  seat  of  Conference,  was  between  three 
and  four  hundred  miles,  the  greater  part  of  it  a  rough  road, 
over  the  Cumberland  Mountains.  The  tour  was  com- 
menced with  many  hopes  of  a  happy  completion ;  but 
before  they  arrived  at  Knoxville,  it  was  easily  perceived 
that  he  was  sinking,  and  fears  were  expressed  that  it  was 
probably  his  last  journey.  But  he  urged  them  on,  in  the 
midst  of  great  suiferings,  not  a  murmur  escaping  from  his 
lips.  They  pushed  on,  and  he  was  so  weak  that  his  travel- 
ling companion  was  compelled  to  lift  him  into  and  out  of 
his  carriage.  Often,  while  engaged  in  these  kind  tasks,  his 
eyes  would  fill  with  tears  at  the  sight  of  the  beloved  bishop ; 
but  only  a  smile  of  holy  resignation  sat  on  the  face  of  the 
quiet  sufferer. 

The  bishop  reached  the  seat  of  Conference  on  the  second 
day  of  the  session,  but  was  unable  to  attend  to  any  portion 
of  the  business ;  indeed  he  visited  the  Conference  room  only 
once,  and  then  remained  only  a  few  moments.  The  greater 
part  of  the  session  he  was  closely  confined  to  his  bed,  and 
it  was  only  at  the  close  of  the  Conference  that  he  was  able 
to  sit  up. 

Calling  upon  some  of  his  old  and  long-tried  friends,  he 
laid  before  them  his  situation,  and  asked  their  advice  upon 
his  future  course.  They  assured  him,  that,  as  far  as  they 
were  capable  of  judging,  it  was  impossible  for  him  to 
accomplish  his  contemplated  tour,  and,  therefore,  it  was 
advisable  for  him  to  return  by  slow  stages  to  the  vicinity 
of  Nashville,  and  spend  the  winter  among  his  friends  there. 
This  advice  commended  itself  to  his  own  judgment ;  for  he 


WILLIAM    M'KKNDREE.  1)7 

replied  with  promptness,  "I  approve  your  judgment,  and 
submit."  Yet  they  saw  the  tears  flow  from  his  eyes,  when 
he  thus  had  to  relinquish  his  design — so  fully  was  his  heart 
enlisted  in  the  great  work  of  salvation. 

The  day  following  the  adjournment  of  the  Conference 
the  fearful  return  journey  was  commenced;  for  it  was  to 
be  one  unmingled  scene  of  suffering  to  the  body,  although 
the  soul  within  that  frail  tenement  was  full  of  patience  and 
joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost.  The  slightest  motion  of  the  car- 
riage out  of  its  usual  course  gave  him  acute  pain.  Yet 
their  way  lay  over  rough  and  rocky  roads,  and  the  season 
was  advanced,  when  the  roads  wrere  in  their  worst  condition. 
On  the  way  they  were  compelled  to  travel  through  heavy 
and  protracted  falls  of  rain,  sleet,  and  snow.  Nothing  but 
the  most  imperious  necessity  would  have  suggested  such  a 
journey,  and  nothing  but  unparalleled  patience  and  energy 
could  have  performed  it ;  but  they  pressed  onward  until  he 
was  safely  lodged  with  his  brother,  Dr.  M'Kendree,  near 
Gallatin,  in  Sumner  County,  Tennessee. 

The  kind  attention  and  quiet  of  his  brother's  home  re- 
stored his  health  to  a  considerable  extent ;  and  as  soon  as 
the  roads  began  to  improve,  in  the  spring  of  1831,  he  made 
preparation  for  an  extended  tour,  which  should  bring  him 
to  the  General  Conference  of  the  following  year.  Leaving 
his  winter  home,  he  travelled  by  slow  stages  through  a 
portion  of  the  States  of  Kentucky  and  Ohio,  attending 
quite  a  number  of  quarterly  and  camp-meetings,  visiting 
as  many  societies  as  possible,  and  preaching  as  often  as  his 
strength  would  admit.  The  power  of  endurance  continued, 
and  he  was  able  to  cross  the  Alleghany  Mountains  in  the 
fall.  He  passed  the  winter  in  Baltimore  and  its  immediate 
vicinity. 

r 


98  WILLIAM    M'KENDBEE. 

In  the  latter  part  of  March  he  passed  on,  in  much  weak- 
ness, to  Philadelphia,  the  seat  of  the  General  Conference. 
There  he  lodged  in  the  family  of  his  old  and  well-tried 
friend,  Dr.  Sargent ;  and  all  that  kindness  and  unremitting 
attention  could  do  for  his  case  was  cheerfully  done.  He 
was,  however,  very  feeble,  and  was  not  able  to  be  present 
and  open  the  first  session,  which  duty  devolved  on  Bishop 
Soule.  He  visited  the  Conference  room  as  often  as  his 
strength  would  allow. 

The  Conference  continued  him  in  his  supernumerary 
relation  with  an  expression  of  their  high  regard.  Indeed, 
all  the  members  seemed  to  vie  with  each  other  in  manifest- 
ing their  affection  for  him.  When  the  General  Conference 
was  about  to  close,  he  took  leave  of  the  preachers,  expect- 
ing to  meet  them  no  more  until  they  should  sit  down 
together  in  his  Father's  kingdom.  Dr.  Bangs  says :  "  Like 
a  patriarch  in  the  midst  of  his  family,  with  his  head  silvered 
over  with  the  frosts  of  seventy-five  winters,  and  a  counte- 
nance beaming  with  intelligence  and  good-will,  he  delivered 
his  valedictory  remarks,  which  are  remembered  with  lively 
emotions.  Rising  from  his  seat  to  take  his  departure  the 
day  before  the  Conference  adjourned,  he  halted  for  a  mo- 
ment, leaning  on  his  staff;  with  faltering  lips,  his  eyes 
swimming  with  tears,  he  said :  '  My  brethren  and  children, 
love  one  another.  Let  all  things  be  done  without  strife  or 
vain-glory,  and  strive  to  keep  the  unity  of  the  Spirit  in  the 
bonds  of  peace.'  He  then  spread  forth  his  trembling  hands, 
and  lifting  his  eyes  to  ward  the  heavens,  pronounced,  with  fal- 
tering and  affectionate  accents,  the  apostolic  benediction." 

They  all  gazed  upon  his  bowed  and  feeble  form  as  he 
passed  from  their  midst,  and  felt  but  too  fearful  forebodings 
that  he  was  present  hi  this  situation  for  the  last  time. 


WILLIAM    M'KENDREE.  09 

Prayers  and  tears  marked  his  exit,  but  there  was  joy  in  his 
heart — the  joy  of  a  weary  labourer  who  feels  that  the  sun 
lias  well-nigh  approached  the  horizon,  and  that  its  setting 
will  bring  him  the  sweetest  repose. 

Immediately  after  the  General  Conference  Bishop 
M'Kendree  returned  to  Baltimore  and  rested  a  few  weeks, 
enjoying  the  conversation  and  society  of  his  old  friends, 
with  whom,  in  years  before,  he  had  spent  many  pleasant 
hours  of  religious  communion.  He  bade  them  farewell 
at  last,  and  set  his  face  westward.  He  pushed  on  as  fast 
as  his  bodily  strength  would  permit,  crossing  the  moun- 
tains for  the  last  time.  His  route  was  much  like  those 
which  he  had  taken  in  the  days  of  his  strength  and  man- 
hood. He  passed  through  the  western  part  of  Pennsylva- 
nia, along  the  northern  part  of  Virginia,  through  Ohio  and 
Kentucky,  into  Tennessee,  where  he  spent  the  remainder 
of  the  year.  During  the  latter  part  of  his  journey  he  be- 
came very  feeble,  and  it  was  found  necessary  to  fix  a  bed 
in  his  carriage  on  which  he  might  lie  down,  for  he  was 
unable  to  sit  upon  the  seat. 

The  following  year  he  was  not  quite  as  strong  as  usual, 
and  therefore  he  was  not  found  far  from  home ;  but  he  was 
quite  efficient  in  labours  in  "West  Tennessee.  He  would 
visit  many  societies,  full  of  the  old  itinerant  spirit,  and 
preach  with  an  ability  which  astonished  all  his  hearers; 
for  his  sermons  were  rich  in  thought  and  illustration,  and 
in  the  power  and  demonstration  of  the  Spirit. 

In  January,  1834,  with  an  improved  state  of  health,  he 
made  a  southern  tour,  visiting  Natchez,  New-Orleans,  and 
Woodville,  passing  from  these  various  points  on  a  steam- 
boat. He  preached  on  board  the  boat,  and  in  the  several 
places  he  visited,  with  an  energy  and  efficiency  that  re- 


100  WILLIAM    M'KENDKEE. 

minded  his  hearers  of  his  former  years.  In  the  spring  of 
this  year  he  returned  to  Nashville,  and  spent  the  whole 
summer  in  travelling  through  Tennessee,  visiting  and 
preaching  in  different  places.  He  attended  the  session  of 
the  Tennessee  Conference,  in  Lebanon,  in  the  early  part  of 
November.  This  was  the  last  time  that  he  was  present  at 
the  session  of  an  Annual  Conference,  and  he  closed  his 
labours  with  an  affecting  address. 

Returning  to  Nashville,  he  preached  his  last  sermon 
there,  in  the  new  church,  on  Sabbath,  November  23d : 
this  sermon  was  reported  from  his  lips,  and  formed  the 
first  number  of  the  Western  Methodist  Preacher.  Bishop 
Soule,  speaking  of  this,  his  last  public  service,  says, 
feelingly : — 

"  Here  that  penetrating,  yet  pleasant  voice,  which  had 
been  heard  with  delight  by  listening  thousands,  in  almost 
all  the  populous  cities  of  the  United  States,  and  which  had 
sounded  forth  the  glad  tidings  of  salvation  in  the  cabins  of 
the  poor  on  the  remote  frontier,  or  to  numerous  multitudes 
gathered  together  in  the  forests  of  the  western  territories, 
and  which  savage  tribes  had  heard  proclaiming  to  them 
the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ,  died  away  to  be  heard 
no  more.  Here  he  finished  the  ministration  of  the  words 
of  eternal  life,  and  closed  his  public  testimony  for  the  truth 
of  the  revelation  of  God." 

Immediately  after  this  effort  his  health  declined  much 
below  its  usually  feeble  state ;  and  showing  no  signs  of 
recovery,  he  concluded,  in  the  latter  part  of  December, 
to  visit  his  brother,  Dr.  James  M'Kendree,  in  Sumner 
County.  He  reached  the  place  of  his  destination  about 
Christmas. 

Although  the  feebleness  of  age  seemed  to  be  his  chief 


WILLIAM    M'KENDREE.  101 

affliction,  he  was  not  without  bodily  pain.  The  forefinger 
of  his  right  hand  became  affected  singularly  by  a  swelling 
where  he  held  his  pen  while  writing.  This  became  ex- 
ceedingly painful,  affecting  especially  the  back  part  of  his 
head,  and  when  submitted  to  medical  treatment  it  mocked 
all  the  skill  of  the  physician.  In  moments  of  acute  pain 
he  would  pray  to  God,  and  call  upon  those  present  to  assist 
him  in  praying  that  the  pain  might  cease ;  and  often  at  the 
close  of  the  prayer  the  bishop  would  sink  into  slumber,  the 
pain  having  ceased.  Such  was  his  faith  in  God,  that  when 
medical  skill  failed  he  made  prayer  his  continual  remedy. 

One  who  was  present  with  him  during  his  last  days,  says : 
"  In  one  instance  he  told  a  friend  and  neighbour  that  he 
wished  him  to  pray  with  him  on  account  of  his  pain.  '  Not,' 
said  he,  'as  you  pray  in  your  family,  but  in  faith,  with 
direct  reference  to  my  case.'  After  prayer  the  bishop 
smiled,  raised  his  hand,  and  said,  '  It  is  easy  now.'  This 
was  about  two  weeks  before  his  death." 

It  soon  became  evident  to  all  that  his  pilgrimage  was 
rapidly  drawing  to  a  close ;  his  strength  was  completely 
prostrated,  and  his  voice  was  so  feeble  that  he  could  only 
whisper,  and  that  with  the  greatest  difficulty  at  times.  He 
had  for  a  long  time  been  subject  to  asthmatic  complaints, 
which  now  increased,  and  he  was  often  seized  with  severe 
fits  of  coughing,  when  he  seemed  to  hold  life  by  a  frail 
tenure.  Had  it  not  been  for  the  faithful  attendance  of  his 
relatives,  his  situation  would  have  been  very  painful ;  but 
he  had  every  attention. 

"  His  interesting  sister  was  ever  at  his  bedside,  where 
her  '  post  of  observation '  had  oftentimes  been  before — for 
many  times  before  this  had  the  bishop  gone  home  to  die. 
His  kind,  affectionate,  and  engaging  niece  seemed  for  weeks 


102  WILLIAM     M'KENDKEE. 

to  have  risen  above  the  want  of  sleep,  as  she  watched  nights 
and  days  away  at  his  pillow.  The  bishop  was  so  affected 
by  her  kind  attention,  that  he  would  say  to  her,  '  Frances, 
you  are  like  a  lamp ;  you  wake  when  I  sleep,  to  shine  on 
me  when  I  wake.'  " 

Bishop  M'Kendree  often  had  fears  that  he  should  be 
called  to  die  away  from  his  dearest  friends  and  relatives. 
He  greatly  desired  to  die  at  his  brother's ;  and  as  the  pre- 
ceding paragraph  intimates,  he  had  more  than  once  gone 
to  his  brother's  expecting  not  to  return  again  to  the  busy 
scenes  of  duty.  And  now,  when  it  seemed  certain  that 
the  hour  of  his  departure  was  near  at  hand,  he  ordered 
that  the  bedstead  on  which  his  father  had  died  some  years 
before  should  be  brought  in,  as  he  wished  to  die  where  he 
had  died ;  and  here  he  awaited  the  coming  of  death. 

On  Sabbath,  the  first  of  March,  it  became  so  evident 
that  mortality  would  soon  be  swallowed  up  in  immortality, 
that  his  brother  made  known  to  him  the  opinion  of  phy- 
sicians respecting  his  situation,  and  questioned  him  in 
regard  to  his  last  desires.  Their  conference  was  at  first 
broken  off  by  a  severe  fit  of  coughing,  but  he  presently 
recovered  and  made  a  signal  with  his  hand  that  he  was 
ready  to  speak.  His  voice  was  so  faint  that  it  was  neces- 
sary that  his  nephew,  Dudley  M'Kendree,  should  lean 
over  him  to  receive  the  communications. 

The  bishop  spoke  first  with  regard  to  the  state  of  his  soul, 
and  said,  "All  is  well  for  time  or  for  eternity.  I  live  by 
faith  in  the  Son  of  God.  For  me  to  live  is  Christ — to  die  is 
gain."  This  in  the  most  emphatic  manner  he  repeated,  "  I 
wish  that  point  perfectly  understood — that  all  is  well  with 
me  whether  I  live  or  die.  For  two  months  I  have  not  had 
a  cloud  to  darken  my  hope;  I  have  had  uninterrupted 


WILLIAM     M' KEN  DREE.  103 

confidence  in  my  Saviour's  love."  He  now  commenced, 
as  an  exposition  of  his  feelings,  to  repeat  the  stanza : — 

"  Not  a  cloud  doth  arise  to  darken  my  skies, 
Or  hide  for  a  moment  my  Lord  from  my  eyes." 

His  voice  failed  him,  and  the  remaining  lines  were  repeated 
for  him  by  one  standing  near  the  bedside. 

Concerning  the  manner  of  his  interment,  he  spoke  briefly, 
but  pointedly.  "  I  wish  to  be  buried  in  the  ancient  Meth- 
odist style,  like  an  old  Christian  minister." 

The  interval  from  the  Sabbath  to  the  Thursday  follow- 
ing, when  he  died,  he  was  calm  and  composed,  with  little 
pain.  To  his  nephew,  Dudley  M'Kendree,  he  said  fer- 
vently, "  Follow  me  as  I  have  followed  Christ,  only  closer 
to  Christ."  His  favourite  phrase  wa's,  '•'•All  is  well"  which 
has  become  identified  with  his  dying  hours. 

"  Death  was  in  the  room.  The  question  had  been  asked 
of  the  venerable  sentinel,  who  shall  no  more  stand  on  the 
towers  of  our  Zion,  'Is  all  well?'  He  had  answered,  'Yes.' 
Just  then,  by  a  sudden  spasmodic  contraction,  he  seemed 
to  have  a  darting  pain  in  his  right  side.  The  muscles  on 
his  left  cheek  appeared  to  suffer  a  corresponding  spasm. 
They  knotted  up  with  a  wrinkle,  which  remained  after  the 
pain  in  the  side  had  passed  away.  Sensible  of  this  mus- 
cular distortion,  the  bishop  was  observed  to  make  two 
energetic  efforts  to  smooth  down  his  countenance.  The 
second  effort  succeeded,  and  a  dying  smile  came  over  the 
brow  of  the  veteran,  and  descended  upon  the  lower  fea- 
tures of  his  face.  The  struggle  was  over.  The  chariot 
had  gone  over  the  everlasting  hills." 

The  day  and  hour  of  his  death  were  March  5th,  1835, 
at  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon;  he  was  seventy-seven 
years  and  eight  months  old,  lacking  one  day. 


104  WILLIAM    M'KENDREE. 

On  Saturday  morning,  March  7th,  his  remains  were  laid 
in  the  earth  beside  the  dust  of  his  honoured  father,  whom 
he  had  loved  with  the  most  intense  devotion,  and  from 
whom  he  desired  not  to  be  separated  in  death. 

In  person,  Bishop  M'Kendree  was  a  little  above  the 
medium  height,  and  very  finely  proportioned,  his  form  in 
his  younger  days  giving  notice  of  great  physical  strength 
and  activity.  The  first  glance  at  his  countenance  con- 
vinced one  that  he  stood  before  a  man  of  great  intellectual 
vigour,  but  whose  predominant  trait  of  character  was 
mildness.  There  were  both  height  and  breadth  to  his 
forehead;  and  under  heavy  eyebrows,  his  eyes,  black, 
impressive,  and  somewhat  protruded,  gave  a  continual 
evidence  of  the  fires  glowing  within.  His  mouth  had  a 
more  than  usually  intellectual  expression;  his  chin  was 
square,  but  not  clumsy;  and,  on  the  whole,  it  may  be 
truly  said,  that  a  finer  countenance,  or  one  more  expres- 
sive of  piety,  firmness,  and  intelligence,  could  scarcely  be 
found. 


BISHOP  OF  THE  METHODIST  EPISCOPAL  CHURCH 


LATE    A    BISHOP    OF    THE    METHODIST    EPISCOPAL    CHURCH. 


JOHN  EMORY  was  born  on  the  llth  day  of  April,  1789,  in 
Spaniard's  Keck,  Queen  Anne's  County,  Eastern  Shore  of 
Maryland.  His  parents  were  Robert  and  Frances  Emory, 
both  members  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  in  which 
his  father  was  a  leader.  As  the  family  mansion  was  the 
home  of  the  circuit  preachers,  he  was  accustomed  from 
infancy  to  their  company  and  conversation ;  and,  in  fact, 
from  that  time  onward,  he  was  nurtured  in  the  bosom  of 
Methodism. 

His  elementary  education  was  received  in  the  country 
schools  in  the  vicinity  of  his  birth-place.  His  academic 
training  was  conducted  by  two  excellent  classical  teachers 
of  the  old  school,  and  completed  at  Washington  College, 
Maryland.  Before  he  was  ten  years  of  age  his  father  had 
decided  to  educate  him  for  the  bar,  and  all  his  studies  for 
several  years  were  directed  with  set  purpose  to  this  end. 
Nothing,  however,  but  natural  strength  of  mind  and  remark- 
able advancement  in  study  could  have  justified  his  enter- 
ing a  law-office  at  seventeen  years  of  age.  He  worked  in 
that  office  most  thoroughly :  reading  hard,  writing  digests 
and  essays,  and  grounding  himself  thoroughly  in  the  funda- 
mental principles  of  law.  This  training  was  afterward  of 
great  value  to  him  in  a  very  different  sphere  of  life. 


106  JOHN    EMORY. 

His  moral  character  was  of  high  order  from  his  boyhood. 
"If  ever,"  says  his  biographer,*  "amiableness  of  disposition 
and  unimpeachable  morality  of  conduct  could  assure  one 
of  the  favour  of  God,  it  is  believed  that  this  would  have 
been  Mr.  Emory's  case.  But  he  had  learned  that  '  whoso 
keepeth  the  whole  law,  and  yet  offendeth  in  one  point,  is 
guilty  of  all;'  and  that  'by  the  deeds  of  the  law  shall  no 
flesh  be  justified ;' — that  '  without  faith  it  is  impossible  to 
please  God ;'  and  that '  he  that  believeth  hath  the  witness 
in  himself.'  And  having  no  such  immaculate  purity  by 
nature,  and  no  such  evidence  of  justification,  his  awakened 
conscience  could  not  rest.  His  interest  in  the  subject  of 
experimental  religion  was  further  increased  by  the  recent 
conversion  of  his  elder  brother  and  sister.  For  months 
he  had  been  labouring  under  strong  convictions ;  but  his 
naturally  retiring  and  silent  disposition  made  it  the  more 
easy  for  him  to  conceal  the  fact  from  the  rest  of  the 
family,  until  the  day  when  he  made  an  open  profession 
of  his  determination  to  be  on  the  Lord's  side.  The  follow- 
ing account  of  the  circumstances  attending  his  conversion 
has  been  communicated  by  his  surviving  sister,  who  was 
present  on  the  occasion:  'The  evening  before  the  quar- 
terly or  two  days'  meeting,  (already  named,)  several  mem- 
bers of  our  family,  among  whom  were  an  elder  sister  and 
myself,  had  assembled  at  our  brother  Robert's,  where  my 
brother  John  was  then  living.  The  hours  having  been 
spent  in  singing  hymns  and  conversing  about  experimental 
religion,  when  family  prayer  was  concluded  John  betook 
himself,  as  he  afterward  told  us,  to  a  retired  part  of  the 
garden,  and  there  gave  vent  to  the  feelings  of  his  burdened 
spirit.  Early  on  the  succeeding  Sabbath  morning  the 

0  Life  of  Bishop  Emory,  by  his  eldest  son,  p.  26. 


JOHN    EMORY. 

family  prepared  to  go  to  love-feast,  expecting  that,  as 
public  preaching  did  not  commence  until  an  hour  or  two 
later,  John  would  not  follow  until  some  time  after.  He 
himself,  however,  proposed  to  accompany  us,  and  on  the 
way  introduced  the  subject  of  religion  to  a  pious  relation, 
Richard  Thoinas,  but  without  disclosing  the  real  state  of 
his  feelings.  This  was,  however,  sufficient  to  induce  Mr. 
Thomas  to  invite  him  to  attend  the  love-feast.  To  this  my 
brother  assented,  provided  he  would  obtain  permission  of 
the  preacher.  But  before  he  had  an  opportunity  of  doing 
so,  the  preacher  presented  himself  at  the  door,  and  stated 
that  none  but  members  of  the  Church  need  apply  for 
admission,  the  house  being  too  small  to  hold  them.  This 
was  an  appalling  stroke  to  him,  and  he  said  to  his  cousin, 
"You  need  not  apply,  for  they  will  not  let  me  in."  But 
this  good  man,  believing  that  God  was  at  work,  succeeded 
in  procuring  admittance  for  him.  The  house  was  quickly 
filled,  and  the  exercises  commenced,  and  soon  the  mighty 
power  of  God  was  displayed.  My  sister  and  myself  had 
secured  seats  near  the  door.  But  few  had  spoken,  when 
our  attention  was  arrested  by  a  voice  which  sounded  like 
our  brother's.  We  gazed  at  each  other,  and  said,  "Is  it 
he  ?"  (for  we  were  entirely  ignorant,  as  yet,  of  all  that  had 
passed,  and  had  not  the  least  idea  of  his  being  in  the 
house:)  "Yes,"  we  said,  with  eyes  streaming  with  tears 
of  joy,  "it  must  be  his  voice,"  for  see  him  we  could  not. 
With  intense  interest  we  listened,  while  he  there,  in  the 
most  solemn  manner,  called  upon  God  and  angels,  heaven 
and  earth,  and  the  assembly  then  present,  to  witness  that 
he  that  day  determined  to  seek  the  salvation  of  his  soul. 
He  then  sunk  upon  his  knees,  and  thus  remained  during 
the  love-feast,  calling  upon  God  for  the  pardon  of  his  sins. 


108  JOHN    KMOKY. 

After  public  preaching  the  same  humble  posture  was 
resumed.  Many  prayers  were  offered  up  for  him,  and 
much  interest  manifested.  A  circle  was  formed  around 
him  of  those  who  knew  and  felt  that  their  God  was  a  God 
of  mercy,  forgiving  iniquity,  transgression,  and  sin.  All 
of  a  sudden  he  rose  from  his  knees  and  seated  himself; 
and  with  such  composure  and  sweetness  as  I  never  wit- 
nessed in  any,  before  or  afterward,  declared  that  he  felt 
peace  and  comfort, — that  all  was  calm.'  " 

This  was  on  the  18th  of  August,  1806.  From  that  time 
to  the  day  of  his  death,  his  Christian  convictions,  faith, 
and  hope,  remained  unaltered.  The  strong  character  of 
the  man  was  shown  in  this  as  in  all  things.  He  knew  not 
how  to  vacillate. 

He  was  admitted  to  the  bar  in  1808,  and  opened  an  office 
in  Centreville.  Such  was  the  public  confidence  in  his 
capacity  and  integrity,  that,  young  as  he  was,  business  soon 
began  to  flow  in  upon  him.  But  the  young  man's  mind 
had  received  another  bent — new  impulses  were  given  to 
him  from  above,  and  he  felt  that  he  must  obey  them.  He 
resolved  to  abandon  his  profession  and  devote  himself  en- 
tirely to  the  work  of  the  ministry.  "  It  was  on  the  9th  of 
October,  1809,"  he  writes,  "  that  I  made  a  covenant  on  my 
knees,  wrote  and  signed  it,  to  give  up  the  law,  after  much 
reading,  prayer,  and  meditation,  and  on  the  10th  I  did  so, 
though  my  father  was  very  unwilling."  This  act,  and  the 
spirit  that  animated  it,  will  afford  a  clew  to  his  entire  char- 
acter. It  was  not  so  great  a  thing  in  itself,  this  mere  giving 
up  of  good  worldly  prospects  to  become  a  preacher  of 
Christ ;  if  that  were  all,  we  might  say  that  he  had  done  no 
more  than  many  others ;  nay,  that  he  had  done  less.  It  is 
not  so  great  a  sacrifice,  after  all,  for  a  man  of  any  elevation 


JOHN     EMORY. 


of  soul  to  throw  aside  trifles  for  realities;  a  man  altogether 
worldly  and  selfish  might  not  understand  such  an  act  ;  but 
for  a  noble  spirit,  the  far  greater  sacrifice  would  be  to  crush 
its  heavenward  tendencies,  and  suffer  them  to  be  trampled 
in  the  dust,  by  ambition  or  avarice,  in  the  great  highway 
of  life.  But  the  significance  of  the  act  lies  in  this,  that  the 
conflict,  in  the  bosom  of  this  youth  of  twenty,  was  not 
merely  between  worldliness  and  self-devotion,  but  between 
the  high  claims  of  a  duty  whose  voice  of  authority  he  had 
implicitly  obeyed  from  his  childhood,  and  which  had  grown 
with  his  growth  until  it  was  interwoven  with  every  fibre  of 
his  being,  and  the  higher  claims  of  a  destiny  newly  unfolded 
to  him  and  foreign  from  the  early  plans  and  training  of  his 
life.  He  revered  his  father  as  a  wise  and  good  man  ;  nay, 
he  loved  him  with  an  affection  that  had  not  been  weakened 
by  severity  or  alienated  by  unkindness,  for  he  owed  every- 
thing to  his  father's  love  ;  he  had  been  used  to  look  up  to 
him  for  advice,  and  to  render  the  ready  obedience  of  a 
dutiful  son;  and  now,  in  the  great  turning-point  of  his 
career,  he  was  called  upon  to  disobey  !  That  little  lawyer's 
office  in  Centreville  was  the  scene,  night  after  night,  for 
months,  of  a  mighty  struggle.  Often  have  we  contempla- 
ted it  thus:  It  is  his  duty  to  preach.  He  feels  the  fire 
within  him,  and  he  cannot  extinguish  it  —  the  flame  of  love 
to  God  and  man.  And  yet  it  has  not  free  course  ;  some- 
times he  even  thinks  it  is  dying  away,  and  he  longs  to  give 
it  vent  in  its  natural  channels.  The  world  lies  before  him 
in  its  wickedness.  Men  are  rushing  toward  the  precipice 
of  destruction,  and  he  knows  that  God  has  made  his  arm 
strong  to  pluck  them  from  the  awful  brink.  He  sees  moral 
evil,  in  its  varied  forms  of  malignant  power,  battling  with 
the  right  and  the  true  ;  a  warrior's  spirit  is  in  him,  and  he 


110  JOHN    EMORY. 

longs  to  stand  in  the  thickest  of  the  fray.  The  life  of  a 
man  is  before  him,  and  he  longs  to  fill  it  with  good  deeds. 
His  vision  embraces  even  other  and  further  scenes.  He 
recollects  not  only  how  nobly  great  souls  have  spent  them- 
selves in  life,  but  how  nobly,  too,  they  have  triumphed  in 
death,  and  he  looks  forward  to  the  hour,  when,  after  his 
work  is  done,  he  too  shall  achieve  that  final  victory.  He 
is  ready  to  go !  But  he  looks  even  beyond  the  grave,  and 
there  gleams  before  his  spirit-vision  the  crown  of  eternal 
life,  all  radiant  with  gems — immortal  souls  saved  through 
his  instrumentality — stars  that  are  to  shine  forever  in  his 
coronet  of  glory.  He  must  go,  though  all  the  world  oppose 
him.  But  let  the  world  speak.  It  tells  him  of  his  talents, 
and  the  brilliant  prospects  before  him — wealth,  distinction, 
a  high  name  among  men.  It  tells  him  of  the  poverty,  the 
obscurity,  nay,  it  even  dares  to  say,  the  shame  that  must 
come  upon  him  if  he  change  his  course.  More  forcibly,  it 
tells  him  that  he  has  mistaken  his  way,  and  that  he  can  be 
more  useful  as  a  weighty  citizen  or  honest  statesman  than 
as  a  wandering  preacher.  Is  this  all  ?  These  petty  sophisms 
cannot  deceive  him ;  his  eye  is  too  keen  for  that.  Not  that 
he  is  unambitious  ;  but  that  he  is  all  too  ambitious  to  limit 
his  undertakings  to  so  narrow  and  temporary  a  sphere.  If 
this  be  all,  then  the  struggle  is  over.  But,  ah !  the  real 
conflict  has  yet  to  come.  His  very  virtues  are  in  arms 
against  him.  His  filial  love  is  pointed,  an  enemy's  weapon, 
against  his  own  bosom.  His  long  habit  of  obedience  binds 
him  with  chains  of  iron.  His  father's  judgment  he  has 
always  trusted,  and  can  he  pronounce  it  incorrect  now? 
Certainly  it  is  not  altogether  unreasonable ;  his  health  is  so 
feeble  that  he  has  to  relax  his  studies,  and  he  needs  the 
comforts  of  home,  rather  than  the  toils  of  a  circuit.  Can 


JOHN     EMORY.  Ill 

we  wonder  that  he  was  sorely  tried  2  Could  we  have  blamed 
him  for  a  different  choice  ?  Blame  him  we  might  not,  but 
he  would  assuredly  have  blamed  himself.  Had  John 
Emory  yielded  to  his  father,  his  integrity  and  honour 
would  have  been  fearfully  shaken ;  thereafter  he  could  not 
have  trusted  himself.  But  his  integrity  and  honour  remained 
unshaken  then,  as  they  did  in  all  after  time,  forming  the 
very  basis  of  his  manly  character.  The  decision  was  made 
according  to  the  dictates  of  his  conscience,  and  even  then 
virtue  was  not  without  its  heavenly  witness  and  reward. 
"The  moment,"  says  he,  "I  entered  into  this  covenant 
upon  my  knees,  I  felt  my  mind  relieved,  and  the  peace  and 
love  of  God  to  flow  through  my  soul,  though  I  had  before 
lost  almost  all  the  comforts  of  religion ;  and  ever  since  I 
have  enjoyed  closer  and  more  constant  communion  with 
God  than  before." 

After  passing  through  the  various  offices  of  class-leader, 
exhorter,  and  local  preacher,  Mr.  Emory  was  received  on 
trial  in  the  Philadelphia  Conference  in  the  spring  of  1810. 
A  few  years  sufficed  to  establish  his  reputation  for  preemi- 
nence in  the  qualities  of  a  true  Christian  minister.  Young 
as  he  was,  his  dignity,  sanctity,  and  weight  of  character, 
soon  became  matter  of  common  knowledge.  His  discre- 
tion, too,  was  that  of  riper  years;  but  it  was  not  the 
discretion  which  stifles  zeal.  He  was  in  labours  abundant ; 
no  proper  work  was  drudgery  to  him.  In  1812  the 
bishops  called  for  volunteers  for  the  West;  young  Emory 
replied,  "  Here  am  I,  send  me."  But  his  wisdom,  ability, 
and  acquirements  were  more  needed  at  home,  and  the  offer 
was  not  accepted.  In  a  few  years  his  health  began  to  fail ; 
but  his  zeal  in  preaching  and  study  knew  no  abatement 
except  from  sheer  necessity.  "  As  he  travelled  from  place 


112  JOHN    EMOKY. 

to  place,  some  profitable  book  was  his  constant  companion. 
And  while  Christian  courtesy  and  pastoral  fidelity  made  it 
alike  his  duty  and  his  delight  to  mingle,  at  proper  times, 
in  social  and  religious  converse  with  the  families  which 
entertained  him,  no  false  delicacy  could  induce  him  to 
appropriate  to  man  the  hours  which  should  be  devoted  to 
God,  nor  to  descend  from  the  dignity  of  the  minister  to 
the  gossip  of  the  newsmonger.  When  the  claims  of  hospi- 
tality and  friendship  were  satisfied,  he  would  betake  him- 
self to  some  retirement,  to  prosecute  more  uninterruptedly 
his  course  of  mental  and  religious  improvement.  By 
this  means  he  doubtless  lost  some  popularity  with  those 
thoughtless  brethren  who  seek  in  their  minister  the  boou 
companion,  rather  than  the  '  man  of  God,  thoroughly 
furnished  unto  all  good  works;'  but,  like  a  wise  master- 
builder,  he  was  laying  deep  and  out  of  sight  the  founda- 
tions of  a  character,  which  became  afterward  at  once  an 
ornament  and  a  defence  to  the  Church.  Indeed,  the 
course  which  he  pursued  had  already  secured  to  him  a 
high  character  among  his  brethren.  There  is  still  pre- 
served, among  the  archives  of  the  Asbury  Historical 
Society,  the  memoranda  which  Bishop  Asbury  made, 
about  this  time,  of  the  character  of  the  preachers  as 
reported  at  Conference.  The  record  in  Mr.  Emory's  case 
is  as  follows : — 1811.  '  John  Emory — classic,  pious,  gifted, 
useful,  given  to  reading.'  1812.  'John  Emory — pious, 

gifted,  steady, '  "* 

From  1813  to  1820  he  filled  the  most  important  pastoral 
stations  in  the  connexion,  such  as  Philadelphia,  Baltimore, 
AVashington,  &c.  In  1813  he  was  married  to  Caroline 
Sellers,  whose  beautiful  life  adorned  his  for  only  two  years, 

8  The  remainder  is  illegible. 


JOHN    EMOHY.  1J3 

as  she  died  in  1815.  In  1816  (the  first  year  of  his  eligi- 
bility) he  was  elected  a  delegate  to  the  General  Confer- 
ence ;  and  of  every  subsequent  General  Conference  until 
his  death  he  was  a  member,  except  that  of  1824,  when, 
being  in  a  minority  on  a  question  of  Church  politics,  in 
the  Baltimore  Annual  Conference,  to  which  he  was  trans- 
ferred in  1818,  he  was  not  elected  a  delegate.  In  the 
early  part  of  1817  he  made  his  first  appearance  in  print  as 
a  controversial  writer.  Bishop  White,  of  the  Protestant 
Episcopal  Church,  had  published  in  the  Christian  Register 
an  essay,  entitled,  "Objections  against  the  position  of  a 
personal  assurance  of  the  pardon  of  sin,  by  a  direct  com- 
munication of  the  Holy  Spirit."  The  doctrine  thus  assailed 
being  one  of  the  distinguishing  tenets  of  Methodism,  and 
one  the  preaching  of  which  had  been  a  source  of  great 
prosperity  to  the  Church  and  consolation  to  her  members, 
Mr.  Emory  came  forward  in  its  defence,  in  two  pamphlets, 
being  "A  Reply,"  and  "A  Further  Reply,"  to  the  above- 
mentioned  essay.  These  were  noticed  in  a  review  of  the 
whole  question  by  Bishop  "White,  with  which,  it  is  believed, 
the  controversy  terminated. 

In  the  following  year,  while  residing  in  Washington,  he 
had  again  to  enter  into  controversy.  Some  articles 
having  been  published  by  a  Unitarian  preacher,  of  the 
name  of  "Wright,  in  the  National  Messenger,  of  George- 
town, D.  C.,  assailing  the  divinity  of  Christ,  Mr.  Emory 
replied  to  them  in  several  communications  to  the  same 
paper,  under  the  signature,  "An  Observer."  These  articles 
were  afterward  published  in  a  pamphlet  form,  with  the 
title,  "  The  Divinity  of  Christ  vindicated  from  the  Cavils 
and  Objections  of  Mr.  John  Wright,"  together  with  a 
few  numbers  on  the  same  subject,  by  the  Rev.  James 

8 


JOHN    EMORY. 

Smith,  whose  memory  is  still  cherished  in  the  Church 
for  his  superior  talents  as  a  metaphysician  and  an 
orator.  It  is  said  that  the  publication  of  these  essays 
had  a  powerful  influence  in  arresting  the  growing 
popularity  of  a  dangerous  heresy  in  that  part  of  the 
country. 

In  the  discussion  of  the  important  ecclesiastical  ques- 
tions which  agitated  the  General  Conference  of  1820,  Mr. 
Emory  took  a  distinguished  part,  and  established  a  name 
second  to  none  in  the  Methodist  ministry  for  skill  in  debate 
and  wisdom  in  counsel.  He  took  special  interest  in  the 
missionary  operations  on  which  the  Church  was  then 
entering,  and  wrote  the  report  in  favour  of  the  Constitu- 
tion of  the  Missionary  Society  which  was  adopted  by  the 
General  Conference. 

At  the  same  Conference  Mr.  Emory  was  chosen  delegate 
to  the  British  Conference,  in  order  to  open  more  close 
relations  between  English  and  American  Methodism,  and, 
especially,  to  settle  certain  difficulties  which  had  arisen 
between  the  preachers  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church 
in  the  Canadas  and  the  Wesleyan  missionaries  in  those 
provinces.  He  executed  this  delicate  mission  to  the  entire 
satisfaction  of  all  parties  concerned ;  and,  by  the  dignity 
and  urbanity  of  his  manner,  his  Christian  meekness,  his 
unaffected  piety,  and  the  remarkable  ability  displayed  in 
his  speeches  and  sermons,  he  left  a  strong  impression  in 
favour  not  only  of  his  own  personal  character,  but  also  of 
the  Church  and  nation  which  he  represented,  in  the  minds 
of  the  British  Methodists. 

It  is  well  known  that  the  period  from  1820  to  1828  was 
a  time  of  great  agitation  in  American  Methodism.  Vari- 
ous attempts  were  made  to  modify  the  constitution  of  the 


JOHN  EMORY.  115 

Church,  some  of  which  were  made  by  wise  and  judicious 
men,  on  sufficient  grounds.  But  then,  as  ever,  in  critical 
and  reformatory  periods,  there  were  to  be  found  hasty  and 
ardent  men,  with  impulses  stronger  than  their  judgment, 
and  zeal  far  beyond  their  knowledge,  who,  under  the  guise 
of  reformers,  were  really  revolutionists.  Mr.  Emory  took 
a  conspicuous  part  in  all  these  controversies,  and  did 
perhaps  as  much  as  any  other  man,  if  not  more,  to  save 
the  Church  from  the  injuries  which  many  of  its  ignorant 
friends  were  in  the  way  of  inflicting  on  it.  A  few  pages, 
then,  may  well  be  spared  to  a  brief  account  of  his  share  in 
the  doings  of  that  stirring  time. 

The  constitution  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church 
sprung  from  the  brain  of  no  system-builder.  The  bishops 
said  truly,  in  their  notes  to  the  Discipline,  that  "  the  whole 
plan  of  Methodism  was  introduced,  step  by  step,  by  the 
interference  and  openings  of  Divine  Providence."  In  obe- 
dience to  this  principle,  the  presiding  elders'  office  was 
fully  instituted  by  the  General  Conference  of  1Y92,  which 
vested  the  power  of  appointing  them  solely  in  the  bishops. 
Doubts  arose  at  an  early  period  in  regard  to  the  propriety 
of  this  last  provision,  and  finally  there  arose  a  large  party 
in  favour  of  making  the  office  elective.  Mr.  Emory  fell 
into  the  ranks  of  that  party,  and  exerted  himself  actively 
in  behalf  of  the  proposed  change.  At  the  General  Con- 
ference of  1820  it  was  found  that  part  of  the  bishops  and  a 
large  number  of  the  members  of  the  Conference  were  in 
favour  of  the  modification ;  but  as  there  was  still  a  pow- 
erful opposition,  it  was  proposed  by  one  of  the  bishops  "to 
appoint  a  committee  of  conciliation,  to  consist  of  six,  one- 
half  on  each  side  of  the  question,  and  to  be  appointed  by 
the  presiding  bishop.  This  was  agreed  to,  and  accordingly 


116  JOHN    EMORY. 

done.*  The  hope  of  a  happy  adjustment  seemed  now  to 
brighten  almost  every  countenance.  The  committee  went 
to  work.  They  conferred  with  the  bishops.  They  con- 
sulted among  themselves ;  and  at  length,  with  the  concur- 
rence and  approbation  of  two-thirds  of  the  episcopacy, 
they  unanimously  recommended  to  the  Conference  the 
adoption  of  the  following  resolutions,  viz. : — 

"  '  Resolved,  &c.,  That  whenever,  in  any  Annual  Con- 
ference, there  shall  be  a  vacancy  or  vacancies  in  the  office 
of  presiding  elder,  in  consequence  of  his  period  of  service 
of  four  years  having  expired,  or  the  bishop  wishing  to 
remove  any  presiding  elder,  or  by  death,  resignation,  or 
otherwise,  the  bishop,  or  president  of  the  Conference 
having  ascertained  the  number  wanted  from  any  of  these 
causes,  shall  nominate  three  times  the  number,  out  of 
which  the  Conference  shall  elect  by  ballot,  without  debate, 
the  number  wanted ;  provided,  when  there  is  more  than 
one  wanted,  not  more  than  three  at  a  time  shall  be  nomi- 
nated, nor  more  than  one  at  a  time  elected;  provided, 
also,  that  in  case  of  any  vacancy  or  vacancies  in  the 
office  of  presiding  elder  in  the  interval  of  any  Annual 
Conference,  the  bishop  shall  have  authority  to  fill  the 
said  vacancy  or  vacancies  until  the  ensuing  Annual  Con- 
ference. 

"  '  Resolved,  &c.,  2dly.  That  the  presiding  elders  be,  and 
hereby  are,  made  the  advisory  council  of  the  bishops,  or 
president  of  the  Conference,  in  stationing  the  preachers.' 

"These  resolutions,  after  an  ineffectual  opposition  on 
the  part  of  a  few  individuals,  were  passed  by  a  majority 
of  more  than  two-thirds  of  the  General  Conference." 

0  The  committee  were,  Ezekiel  Cooper,  Joshua  Wells,  S.  G.  Roszel, 
N.  Bangs,  W.  Capers,  and  J.  Emory. 


EMORY.  117 

This  result  was  received  with  universal  joy;  the  long 
dispute,  it  was  thought,  was  ended  forever.  But  these 
pleasing  dreams  were  soon  dispelled  by  the  announcement 
that  Mr.  Soule,  who  had  been  elected  bishop  a  few  days 
before,  but  not  ordained,  had  declared,  in  writing,  that  if 
ordained,  he  would  not  carry  these  resolutions  into  execu- 
tion, because  he  believed  them  to  be  unconstitutional. 
This  was  carrying  matters  with  a  high  hand ;  it  was 
nothing  less  than  a  claim  of  power  on  the  part  of  the 
bishop  "  to  arrest  the  operation  of  resolutions  concurred  in 
by  more  than  two-thirds  of  the  General  Conference,  and 
by  two-thirds  of  the  episcopacy  itself."  In  his  conduct  on 
this  occasion,  Bishop  Soule  gave  a  fair  indication  of  the 
high-episcopal-prerogative  doctrine,  or  rather  sentiment, 
(for  it  has  no  logical  coherency  to  make  it  doctrine,) 
which  he  has  ever  since  maintained.  Mr.  Soule  offered 
his  resignation,  which  was  accepted  by  the  Conference. 
But  his  views  were  supported  by  Bishop  M'Kendree,  for 
whose  character  and  opinions  there  was  almost  universal 
reverence.  The  resolutions,  therefore,  were  suspended  for 
four  years. 

In  Mr.  Emory's  view,  the  presiding-elder  question,  as  it 
was  called,  sank  into  insignificance  in  comparison  with  this 
new  claim  of  an  episcopal  right  to  veto  the  acts  of  the 
General  Conference.  It  was  now  the  question  whether 
the  episcopacy  or  the  General  Conference  were  to  be 
supreme.  Without  entering  into  an  account  of  all  his 
labours  on  this  point,  it  is  enough  to  say  that  the  bishop 
subsequently  disclaimed  all  intention  to  exercise  such  a 
power ;  nor  has  it,  or  anything  like  it,  since  been  assumed 
or  claimed  by  any  bishop  of  our  Church. 

But  if  Mr.  Emory  stood  up  manfully  in  opposition  to 


118  JOHN     EMOKY. 

> 

what  he  believed  to  be  an  unauthorized  claim  of  episcopal 
power,  he  was  no  less  useful  as  a  defender  of  the  episco- 
pacy itself  in  a  subsequent  day  of  trial.  It  is  hard  to 
realize,  now,  the  dangers  which  menaced  the  Church  dur- 
ing the  memorable  years  of  the  so-called  radical  contro- 
versy. But  shall  we  consider  the  danger  to  have  been 
trifling  because  the  Church  triumphed?  Because  the 
noble  ship  came  out  of  the  storm  with  every  mast,  and 
spar,  and  rope  unharmed,  shall  we  say  that  there  was  no 
tempest?  Bather  let  us  adore  the  Power  that  rides  upon 
the  whirlwind,  and  give  due  praise  to  the  gallant  pilots, 
who,  under  his  protection,  withstood  its  fury.  We  should 
j  udge  of  its  fierceness,  not  by  what  the  result  was,  but  by 
what  it  might  have  been  had  there  been  no  capable  steers- 
man at  the  helm.  Who  can  say  but  that  the  desire  of 
change,  always  a  powerful  one,  and  at  that  time  intensified 
into  a  passion  in  some  leading  minds,  would  have  spread 
through  the  Church  with  revolutionary  rapidity,  and  con- 
vulsed it  from  one  end  of  the  land  to  the  other,  had  it  not 
been  arrested  in  its  inception?  "There  never  was  a 
period,"  says  our  author,  "in  the  history  of  American 
Methodism,  which  required  such  prudence  in  counsel,  such 
firmness  in  action."  Ungrateful,  indeed,  would  it  be  to 
forget  those  who  then  stood  up  in  defence  of  our  noble 
institutions;  and  our  right  hand  shall  sooner  forget  its 
cunning  than  we  refuse  to  honour  their  names  and  com- 
memorate their  deeds.  We  have  no  desire  to  exalt  one 
man  unduly  above  another,  but  we  hardly  suppose  that 
any  will  find  fault  with  us  for  giving  the  foremost  place 
among  the  champions  of  the  Church  out  of  the  itinerancy 
to  Dr.  Thos.  E.  Bond,  Sen.,  of  Baltimore,  whose  "Appeal  to 
the  Methodists,"  published  in  1827,  by  its  luminous  expo- 


JOHN    EMORY.  119 

sition  of  our  system  of  government,  especially  with  regard 
to  the  itinerancy,  by  its  forcible  arguments  in  defence  of 
that  system,  and  by  its  eloquent  appeals  to  the  best  feel- 
ings of  the  Methodist  community,  produced  a  powerful 
effect,  both  in  confirming  many  wavering  minds  and  in 
preventing  the  sophisms  of  the  malcontents  from  leading 
others  astray.  This  pamphlet,  with  the  "  Narrative  and 
Defence,"  forms  part  of  the  history  of  the  controversy. 
While  Dr.  Bond  was  thus  acting  the  part  of  an  able  attor- 
ney-general, the  wisdom  and  firmness  of  Rev.  James  M. 
Hanson,  with  whom  rested  the  responsibility  of  the  admin- 
istration in  Baltimore  in  those  perilous  times,  erected  a 
defence  of  another  sort,  no  less  legitimate,  and  perhaps  no 
less  effective,  against  the  assaults  of  the  innovators.  But 
while  these  brethren  had  the  danger,  and  the  honour,  of 
fighting  the  battle  in  the  very  district  where  the  enemy's 
chief  strength  lay,  their  efforts  were  called  forth  by  local 
circumstances,  and  some  general  defence  of  the  Church 
was  needed  which  should  vindicate  the  fame  of  her  found- 
ers, and  set  forth,  before  all  men,  the  true  principles  of  her 
organization.  It  was  reserved  for  John  Emory  to  do  this 
work.  He  did  not  interfere  in  the  controversy  until  the 
demand  for  his  services  became  urgent,  and  then  he  inter- 
fered effectually.  The  "  Defence  of  our  Fathers,"  designed, 
primarily,  as  an  answer  to  Mr.  A.  M'Caine's  "History  and 
Mystery  of  Methodist  Episcopacy,"  took  a  wider  view  of 
the  subject  than  was  necessary  to  refute  that  malicious 
production.  Mr.  M'Caine  went  far  beyond  his  associates 
in  violence  and  effrontery.  No  calumny  was  too  foul  to 
find  currency  through  his  means,  if  it  would  only  serve  his 
purposes  of  defamation.  An  honourable  character  formed 
no  defence  for  the  living  against  the  shafts  of  his  malice ; 


120  JOHN    EMOKY. 

the  grave  itself  was  no  sanctuary  for  the  venerable  dead. 
His  soul  had  not  honour  enough  "  to  bless  the  turf  that 
wrapped  their  clay  ;"  it  could  only  find  utterance,  over  the 
tomb,  in  a  hideous  howl  of  slander.  But  there  were  many 
who  knew  little  of  the  men  whom  he  traduced  or  the  events 
which  he  misrepresented:  and,  in  the  absence  of  other 
information,  the  very  boldness  of  his  assertions  gained  them 
credence  for  a  time.  "  At  the  instance  of  some  who  had 
taken  the  deepest  interest  in  the  existing  contest,  Mr. 
Emory  undertook  to  expose  the  falsity  of  his  statements 
and  the  fallacy  of  his  arguments."  In  a  very  short  time 
the  "Defence"  appeared,  and  although  prepared  so  hastily, 
amid  the  laborious  engagements  of  the  book  agency,  it 
fully  sustained  the  reputation  of  its  author,  and,  what  is 
more  important,  triumphantly  vindicated  the  fame  of  the 
founders  of  the  Church.  The  work  at  once  produced  a 
great  sensation  ;  friends  were  delighted,  foes  were  alarmed. 
It  has  since  been  made  a  part  of  the  preachers'  course  of 
study,  and  has  taken  its  place,  deservedly,  among  the 
standard  writings  of  the  Church.  The  biography  by  his 
son  gives  a  clear  outline  of  its  contents,  and  the  work  itself 
is  well  known  to  most  of  our  readers,  so  that  we  need  do 
nothing  more  than  express  our  opinion  in  regard  to  its 
merits.  It  has  the  same  points  of  excellence  that  distin- 
guish all  Mr.  Emory's  writings — clearness  of  arrangement, 
fairness  of  statement,  soundness  of  logic,  and  conciseness  of 
expression.  Nor  does  it  lack  pungency  of  satire  and 
severity  of  rebuke;  and  these  are  combined  with  deep 
feeling  in  the  remarkably  eloquent  passage  at  the  close  of 
the  volume.  On  the  whole,  this  tract,  considering  the 
time  of  its  publication,  the  subjects  of  which  it  treats,  and 
the  effects  which  it  produced,  may  be  regarded  as  one  of 


JOHN     EMOKY. 


the  most  important  publications  that  have  appeared  in  the 
history  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church. 

A  posthumous  tract  on  episcopacy  exhibits  Dr.  Emory 
as  the  defender  of  the  Church  against  assaults  from  with- 
out. Incomplete  as  it  is,  it  does  no  discredit  to  its  author  ; 
there  is  enough  to  show  that  he  was  master  of  the  subject, 
and  would  have  disposed  of  the  controversy  satisfactorily 
had  he  been  allowed  to  complete  his  design.  The  latter 
and  better  portion  of  the  tract,  containing  a  partial  ex- 
amination of  Dr.  Onderdonk's  "Episcopacy  tested  by 
Scripture,"  is,  in  our  judgment,  as  far  as  it  goes,  the  ablest 
answer  that  has  yet  been  given  to  that  ingenious  but  over- 
rated production.  The  high  Churchman's  weak  points 
were  clearly  perceived  by  Bishop  Emory,  and  he  attacked 
them  with  great  weight  of  metal  and  directness  of  aim. 

At  the  Conference  of  1824  Mr.  Emory  was  elected 
Assistant  Book  Agent,  with  Rev.  Dr.  Bangs  as  senior  ; 
and  in  1828  he  was  elected  Agent,  with  Rev.  Beverly 
Waugh  as  Assistant.  In  the  language  of  his  biographer, 
his  "  connexion  with  the  Book  Concern,  whether  it  be  con- 
sidered with  reference  to  its  influence  upon  that  establish- 
ment and  the  Church  at  large,  or  its  influence  upon  the 
development  of  his  own  character,  must  be  regarded  as 
one  of  the  most  important  periods  of  his  life."  The  chap- 
ter on  the  Book  Concern  in  his  biography,  while  it  in  no 
respect  depreciates  the  services  of  others,  shows  that  the 
present  commanding  position  of  the  establishment  is  mainly 
to  be  attributed  to  Dr.  Emory. 

The  Publishing  Fimd  originated  with  him.  Its  origin 
and  objects  are  set  forth  in  his  admirable  address  to  the 
Church  and  its  friends  in  behalf  of  the  Bible,  Tract, 
and  Sunday-School  Societies  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal 


122  JOHN    EMOBT. 

Church ;  and  though  its  results  have  not  fully  equalled 
the  expectations  at  first  cherished,  they  have  sufficed  to 
evince  the  sagacity  of  the  measure.  The  MetJiodist  Quar- 
terly Review  also  owes  its  existence  to  Dr.  Emory,  who 
commenced  the  publication  of  its  first  series  in  1830. 
Most  of  the  original  articles,  up  to  1832,  were  from  his 
pen,  and  some  of  them  were  written  with  distinguished 
ability. 

A  comprehensive  sketch  of  the  history  of  the  Book  Con- 
cern, from  the  pen  of  Bishop  "Waugh,  is  given  in  the  "  Life 
of  Dr.  Emory."  From  that  outline,  and  the  more  extended 
account  in  Dr.  Bangs's  History,  vol.  iv,  we  learn  that  be- 
tween the  years  1823  and  1828  there  was  a  great  expan- 
sion of  the  business  of  the  Concern,  to  meet  which  a  build- 
ing was  purchased  in  Crosby-street,  and  a  printing  office 
and  bindery  established  on  the  premises.  During  this 
period  Dr.  Emory  was  junior  Book  Agent.  But  "this 
extension  of  business  had  not  been  accomplished  without 
an  increase  of  debt,  and  although  there  was  now  greater 
energy  in  the  institution  to  effect  its  discharge,  it  may  well 
be  doubted  whether  this  result  would  not  have  been  wholly 
prevented  by  the  system  on  which  the  business  was  con- 
ducted." 

The  debt  of  the  establishment  in  1828  was  $101,200  80, 
two-thirds  of  which  sum  was  at  interest.  Its  nominal  assets 
amounted  to  $456,898  30,  of  which  only  $59,772  28  were 
in  fixed  capital,  cash,  and  notes  receivable  ;  the  remainder 
consisting  of  stock  on  hand,  and  accounts,  mostly  for  books 
sent  out  from  New- York  on  commission,  from  which  im- 
mense deductions  had  to  be  made  in  order  to  anything  like 
a  true  estimate  of  their  value.  Indeed  the  agents  estimated 
the  real  capital  of  the  establishment  at  only  $130,002  02, 


'   a 


a 


JOHN    EMORY.  1  2o 

we  suppose,  of  course,  exclusive  of  its  debt.  The  commis- 
sion system  of  business  gave  rise  to  a  vast  amount  of  credit 
to  a  multitude  of  persons  throughout  the  land ;  and  had  it 
continued,  this  credit  must  have  gone  on  increasing  from 
year  to  year.  No  skill  or  industry  could,  under  these  cir- 
cumstances, have  paid  the  debts  of  the  institution  and  kept 
up  its  capital.  The  inevitable  alternative  must  have  been, 
either  the  curtailment  of  the  business  or  the  destruction  of 
the  Concern.  Dr.  Emory  proposed  the  bold,  but  necessary 
measure  of  an  entire  revolution  in  the  mode  of  doing  busi- 
ness, and  suggested  to  his  colleague  the  abolition  of  the 
commission  system,  and  the  adoption  of  one  founded  on  the 
principle  of  actual  sales  for  cash  or  its  equivalent.  In  the 
language  of  Bishop  Waugh,  "The  two  great  objects  which 
Dr.  Emory  aimed  to  accomplish  were,  first,  the  extinguish- 
ment of  the  debts  due  from  the  Concern,  and  second,  the 
actual  sale  of  the  stock  on  hand,  and  especially  that  part 
of  it  which  was  daily  depreciating,  because  of  the  injuries 
which  were  constantly  being  sustained  by  it,  in  the  scat- 
tered and  exposed  state  in  which  most  of  it  was  found. 
The  ability,  skill,  diligence,  and  perseverance  which  he 
displayed  in  the  measures  devised  by  him  for  the  accom- 
plishment of  these  objects,  have  seldom  been  equalled,  and 
perhaps  never  surpassed  by  the  most  practised  business 
man.  His  success  was  complete.  Before  the  meeting  of 
the  General  Conference  he  had  cancelled  all  the  obligations 
of  the  institution  which  had  been  so  opportunely  intrusted 
to  his  supervision.  He  had  greatly  enlarged  the  annual 
dividends  to  an  increased  number  of  Conferences.  He  had 
purchased  several  lots  of  ground  for  a  more  enlarged  and 
eligible  location  of  the  establishment,  and  had  erected  a 
large  four-story  brick  building  as  a  part  of  the  improve- 


124:  JOHN    EMORY. 

ments  intended  to  be  put  on  them,  for  the  whole  of  which 
he  had  paid.  It  was  his  high  honour,  and  also  his  enviable 
satisfaction,  to  report  to  the  General  Conference,  for  the 
first  time,  that  its  Book  Concern  was  no  longer  in  debt." 

Such  were  the  immediate  results  of  Dr.  Emory's  agency. 
We  have  one  word  more  to  say  of  it.  The  energy,  effi- 
ciency, and  method  which  he  infused  into  all  the  opera- 
tions of  the  Concern  remain  to  this  day.  He  has  left  his 
mark  upon  it.  His  admirable  plans  had  only  to  be  carried 
out  to  place  the  establishment  beyond  the  reach  of  ordinary 
contingencies.  His  able  successors  have  done  their  work  in 
his  spirit,  and  developed  the  resources  of  the  institution  to 
an  extent  formerly  unhoped  for ;  so  that  it  has  stood  the 
ordeal  of  an  immense  loss  by  fire,  and  of  a  long  period  of 
commercial  distress,  without  even  shaking ;  and  to-day  it 
is,  to  the  best  of  our  knowledge,  the  second,  if  not  the 
greatest,  book-making  and  book-selling  establishment  in 
America. 

During  these  years  of  public  labour,  Mr.  Emory's  char- 
acter was  constantly  assuming  more  and  more  command- 
ing proportions  to  the  eye  of  the  Church,  and  it  was  the 
opinion  of  many  that  he  was  destined  to  be  her  leading 
spirit.  At  the  General  Conference  of  1832  he  was  elected 
bishop.  His  career  in  the  episcopacy  was  brief,  but  bril- 
liant. The  appointment  was  hailed  with  joy  throughout 
the  connexion.  Great  expectations  were  indulged;  and 
we  believe  that  in  the  three  episcopal  tours  which  he  was 
allowed  to  make,  they  were  entirely  satisfied.  His  powers 
as  a  presiding  officer  were  tried  on  the  last  night  of  the 
General  Conference  of  1832,  when  he  occupied  the  chair, 
and  gained  the  admiration  of  the  delegates  as  well  as  of 
the  immense  concourse  of  spectators,  by  the  dignity  and 


JOHN     EMORY.  125 

firmness  with  which  he  discharged  its  duties.  Dignity, 
indeed,  was  part  of  his  nature,  and  it  could  not  forsake 
him.  "  I  hurry  nothing,  but  endeavour  to  keep  strict  order, 
and  every  man  close  to  business,"  was  a  statement,  by  him- 
self, of  his  method  of  doing  business ;  and  admirably  did  he 
carry  it  out.  Nor  were  his  labours  confined  to  the  Con- 
ference sessions.  In  the  intervals  of  those  bodies  he  was 
always  travelling,  preaching,  writing,  and  planning  for  the 
advancement  of  the  great  interests  of  Christianity  and  of 
the  Church.  The  cause  of  education,  especially,  lay  near 
his  heart.  His  share  in  the  organization  of  the  New- York 
University,  the  Wesleyan  University,  and  Dickinson  Col- 
lege, evince  the  interest  that  he  took  in  general  education. 
In  addition  to  this  he  drew  up  the  outline  of  a  plan  for  an 
education  society  in  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church, 
which  he  designed  to  aid  our  ministers  and  others  in  edu- 
cating their  sons.  But  his  efforts  for  the  improvement  of 
the  ministry  deserve  more  than  a  passing  notice.  Though 
the  education  of  its  ministers  had  always  been  an  object 
with  the  Church,  its  plans  for  that  purpose  had  always 
been  defective,  and  were  imperfectly  carried  out.  Soon 
after  his  election  to  the  episcopacy,  Dr.  Emory  devised  a 
course  of  study  for  candidates  for  deacons'  and  elders' 
orders,  in  which,  with  his  usual  discretion,  he  did  not 
hazard  everything  by  attempting  too  much.  In  due  time 
the  course  will  doubtless  be  greatly  enlarged,  and  its 
natural  result  will  be  an  elevation  of  the  standard  of 
ministerial  knowledge  among  us,  corresponding,  partially 
at  least,  with  the  general  advance  of  society.  In  some 
sections  of  the  country  the  movement  will  be  more  rapid 
than  in  others ;  but  we  have  no  doubt  whatever  that  the 
Church  will  ultimately  settle  down  upon  the  plan  of  our 


126  JOHN    EMORY. 

British  brethren,  or  upon  some  better  one,  for  the  theologi- 
cal training  of  its  candidates.  We  have  no  doubt,  either, 
that  Bishop  Emory  foresaw  this  result,  and  would  have 
hastened  it  had  he  lived. 

He  formed  a  plan,  also,  for  training  the  local  preachers, 
which,  with  an  argument  for  the  four  years'  course  of  study 
for  the  travelling  preachers,  is  set  forth  in  his  excellent 
address  to  "the  Preachers  within  the  Virginia,  Baltimore, 
Philadelphia,  New-York,  New-England,  Maine,  New- 
Hampshire,  Troy,  Oneida,  and  Genesee  Annual  Confer- 
ences," published  before  he  commenced  his  third  and  last 
tour.  He  attended  all  these  Conferences  but  the  last  two. 
Nothing  of  unusual  interest  transpired  at  any  of  them 
except  the  New-England  and  New-Hampshire,  where  the 
first  Conference  difficulties  on  the  subject  of  abolitionism 
arose.  His  conduct  there  was  marked  by  his  usual  judg- 
ment and  firmness.  Subsequently  he  prepared  the  episco- 
pal address  to  those  Conferences,  signed  by  himself  and 
Bishop  Hedding ;  and  whatever  opinions  may  be  held  as  to 
his  views  of  abolitionism,  none  can  deny  that  the  subject  is 
therein  treated  with  a  master's  hand.  As  for  slavery  itself, 
that  "root  of  evil,"  as  he  characterized  it,  his  views  were 
well  known;  abolitionists  themselves  never  held  it  in 
deeper  abhorrence.  The  Troy  Conference  of  1835  was 
the  last  which  he  attended. 

"It  was  in  the  midst  of  engagements  like  these,  and 
when  in  the  possession  of  more  vigorous  health  than  he 
had  enjoyed  for  many  years  previously,  that  Bishop  Emory 
was  suddenly  taken  to  his  rest.  On  Wednesday,  the  16th  of 
December,  1835,  a  day  memorable  for  the  great  conflagra- 
tion in  New- York,  and  for  the  excessive  cold  by  which  its 
ravages  were  accelerated  and  extended,  Bishop  Emory  left 


JOHN    EMORY.  127 

home  for  Baltimore,  in  a  light  open  carriage,  about  six 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  being  then  before  day.  About 
two  miles  from  his  residence  he  had  to  descend  a  hill 
nearly  a  mile  in  length.  The  carriage  was  seen,  it  was 
said,  about  the  dawn  of  day,  passing  by  a  tavern  near  the 
top  of  the  hill  with  considerable  velocity;  but  nothing 
further  was  noticed,  until,  about  twenty  minutes  after,  the 
bishop  was  found  by  a  wagoner  lying  bleeding  and  in- 
sensible on  the  side  of  the  road,  about  two  hundred  yards 
below  the  tavern.  He  had,  it  would  appear,  while  the 
horse  was  running,  either  jumped  or  been  thrown  from  the 
carriage,  and  had  fallen  with  the  back  of  his  head  on  a 
stone,  which  fractured  the  skull.  He  was  immediately 
removed  to  the  tavern ;  medical  assistance  was  promptly 
summoned,  but  the  case  was  at  once  pronounced  hopeless. 
Those  of  his  afflicted  family  and  brethren  who  were  in  the 
neighbourhood  repaired  to  his  dying  bed ;  but  the  nature 
of  the  injury,  while  it  rendered  him  insensible  to  their 
sympathy,  happily  freed  him  from  the  pain  which  would 
have  required  it.  In  this  state  he  lingered  till  the  even- 
ing, when,  at  a  quarter  past  seven,  he  expired. 

"  Upon  receiving  the  melancholy  intelligence,  the  trus- 
tees and  stewards  of  the  Baltimore  city  station  requested  to 
be  permitted  to  superintend  his  interment.  Accordingly, 
under  their  direction,  the  body  was  conveyed  to  Balti- 
more, where  the  funeral  sermon  was  preached,  on  the 
ensuing  Sabbath,  in  the  Eutaw-street  Church,  by  his  old 
and  tried  friend,  the  Rev.  Alfred  Griffith,  from  2  Samuel 
iii,  38  :  "  Know  ye  not  that  there  is  a  prince  and  a  great 
man  fallen  this  day  in  Israel  ?"  His  mortal  remains  were 
immediately  afterward  deposited  in  the  vault  under  the 
pulpit,  where  they  lie  beside  those  of  the  venerated 


JOHX    EMORY. 

Asbury,  of  whom  lie  had  been  so  able  a  defender,  and  so 
faithful  a  successor. 

"  The  news  of  this  sudden  bereavement  spread  a  gloom 
throughout  the  vast  connexion,  over  which  Bishop  Emory 
had  presided  for  a  period,  sufficient,  though  brief,  to  assure 
them  of  the  greatness  of  the  loss  they  had  sustained." 

A  glance  at  a  few  of  the  prominent  points  of  Bishop 
Emory's  character  will  close  this  brief  sketch.  His  integ- 
rity no  man  ever  doubted.  It  was  written  upon  every 
lineament  of  his  strongly-marked  countenance ;  it  spoke  in 
every  word  that  fell  from  his  lips ;  and  it  was  manifest  in 
every  action  of  his  life.  Known  and  read  of  all  men  as  it 
was,  it  is  almost  superfluous  to  commemorate  the  honesty 
of  John  Emory.  Ambition  could  not  tempt  it ;  difficulties 
could  not  shake  it ;  gold  could  not  bribe  it.  He  adopted 
his  opinions  cautiously,  because  he  would  receive  none 
without  the  fullest  assurance  of  their  truth;  and  when 
they  were  adopted,  he  maintained  them  manfully,  because 
he  believed  them  to  be  true.  It  mattered  not  to  him  who 
was  his  opponent.  Except  that  his  modesty  and  tender- 
ness of  feeling  were  wounded  by  the  trial,  his  opposition 
to  Bishop  M'Kendree  was  as  vigorous  as  it  would  have 
been,  if,  on  the  same  subject,  he  had  been  contending  with 
a  junior  preacher  like  himself.  ]STo  disputant  could  be 
more  thoroughly  upright  in  the  conduct  of  a  debate  than 
he;  sound  and  legitimate  reasoning  he  would  employ 
against  any  man,  sophistry  he  never  deigned  to  use  at  all. 
He  never  committed  the  fatal  error  of  maintaining  a  good 
cause  by  bad  arguments.  His  was  not  that  flexible  con- 
science which  bends  with  circumstances.  And  though  he 
was  prudent,  as  we  shall  see,  almost  to  a  proverb,  we  do 
not  believe  that  an  instance  could  be  found,  in  his  whole 


JOHN     EMORY. 

life,  of  his  sacrificing  the  true  to  the  expedient.  In  the 
early  stages  of  the  presiding-elder  question  he  incurred  the 
imputation  of  radicalism  by  his  bold  advocacy  of  what  he 
believed  to  be  a  necessary  change ;  and  in  its  later  days,  he 
was  liable,  in  the  eyes  of  some,  to  the  charge  of  inconsist- 
ency, because  he  opposed  the  excesses  of  persons  with 
whom  he  had  before  been  partially  connected.  In  both 
cases  he  knew  the  risk  he  was  running ;  in  both  he  made 
up  his  mind  as  to  what  was  right,  and  unflinchingly  pur- 
sued it. 

Another  striking  element  of  his  nature  was  strength  of 
will.  He  manifested  it,  even  in  his  boyhood,  in  obeying 
the  call  of  God  to  preach  the  gospel,  in  opposition  to  the 
wishes  of  a  revered  and  beloved  father.  We  have  seen 
that  the  parent  was  unbending :  he  found  the  son  worthy 
of  the  sire  in  this  same  iron  trait,  which  he  manifested,  not 
merely  in  the  decision,  but  in  adhering  to  it  through  two 
whole  years  of  gloom,  in  which  his  father  refused  to  hear 
him  preach,  or  even  to  receive  letters  from  him.  What  a 
weight  to  rest  upon  the  young  itinerant,  in  addition  to  the 
cares  inseparable  from  his  new  position!  "It  would, 
doubtless,"  says  his  biographer,  "be  an  instructive  and 
affecting  lesson  to  peruse  the  private  diary  which  he  kept 
at  this  period."  It  would,  indeed,  have  proved  a  precious 
relic ;  but  even  without  it,  we  can  appreciate  the  firmness 
of  his  conduct  in  this  early  day  of  trial,  and  his  subsequent 
history  showed  a  full  development  of  this  powerful  element 
of  character.  Nor  could  it  ever  be  mistaken  for  obstinacy, 
that  "  stubbornness  of  temper  which  can  assign  no  reasons 
but  mere  will  for  a  constancy  which  acts  in  the  nature  of 
dead  weight  rather  than  of  strength,  resembling  less  the 
reaction  of  a  spring  than  the  gravitation  of  a  stone." 


130  JOHN    EMOBY. 

Knowing  the  purity  of  his  own  intentions,  confiding  in  his 
own  judgment,  and  perceiving  his  superiority  to  most  of 
the  men  around  him,  he  was  rarely  to  be  found  in  that 
miserable  state  of  suspense  which  seems  to  form  the  com- 
mon atmosphere  of  men  of  muddy  brains  and  feeble  wills. 
It  was  surprising  to  see  how  such  men  would  fall  back  and 
clear  the  way  for  his  coming.  It  was  known  that  he  was 
a  wise  and  thoughtful  man ;  but  if  it  had  not  been  known, 
also,  that  his  will  was  not  to  be  baffled,  he  never  could 
have  attained  the  power  over  men  which  he  possessed. 
The  great  secret  of  heroism  lies,  indeed,  in  this  strength  of 
will.  A  man  may  be  as  honest  as  the  day  and  as  clear- 
headed as  Lord  Bacon ;  but  if  his  will  be  imbecile,  he  will 
be  thrust  aside  in  the  day  of  trial  by  men  of  far  humbler 
pretensions.  One  Mirabeau,  in  a  French  revolution,  is 
worth  a  score  of  Neckars.  We  are  no  idolaters  of  mere 
energy  of  mind,  and  yet  we  are  too  well  assured  of  the 
immense  power  it  confers  on  its  possessor  not  to  honour  it, 
when  we  find  it  combined  with  inflexible  integrity  and 
directed  to  noble  objects.  In  Bishop  Emory  it  was  ex- 
hibited not  only  in  that  promptness  of  action  which  we 
call  decision  of  character,  but  also  in  that  well-sustained 
steadfastness  which  is  perhaps  more  rare — consistency. 
No  one  doubted  that  when  the  time  came  for  action  he 
would  be  prepared ;  no  one  expected  to  find  the  deed  of 
one  day  nullified  by  that  of  the  next. 

Many  strong  men  keep  us  in  constant  fear  lest  they 
should  make  some  false  step.  When  in  possession  of 
power  they  are  watched  by  a  thousand  anxious  eyes. 
With  unimpeachable  honesty  and  Koman  firmness,  they 
are  so  destitute  of  prudence  that  their  power  is  wasted 
in  the  endless  strifes  which  they  excite  by  the  wayside, 


JOIIX     EMOJKY.  131 

instead  of  being  treasured  up  for  great  emergencies.  Not 
so  Bishop  Emory.  He  disobeyed  his  father,  it  is  true ;  but 
not  without  foresight  on  his  own  part,  and  wise  counsel 
from  his  friends  to  fortify  his  decision.  Afterward  he  was 
proverbially  a  prudent  man.  Dr.  Bangs  says,  "  that  he 
was  always  desirous  to  have  his  errors  corrected  before 
they  should  be  exposed  to  the  multitude  for  indiscriminate 
condemnation."  This  combination  of  discretion  and  firm- 
ness is  so  strongly  marked,  that  we  should  be  tempted  to 
illustrate  it  at  length  from  the  biography  before  us,  did  our 
limits  allow.  It  must  suffice  for  us  to  point  to  his  success 
in  his  very  first  station,  where  his  remarkable  prudence 
fully  justified  the  reply  of  Bishop  Asbury  to  some  who 
doubted  his  qualifications  for  the  post,  "  Never  mind,  he 
has  an  old  head  on  young  shoulders  ;"  to  his  conduct  in  his 
delicate  mission  to  England ;  to  his  defence  of  the  institu- 
tions of  the  Church ;  to  his  management  of  the  Book  Con- 
cern ;  and,  lastly,  to  his  performance  of  episcopal  functions. 
We  have  traced  him  through  the  whole  of  this  career,  and 
found  him  often  placed  in  circumstances  of  perplexity  and 
even  of  peril,  but  never  once  have  we  found  his  firmness 
shaken  or  his  discretion  at  fault.  "We  are  aware  that  this 
is  high  praise,  and  that  some  have  tried  to  impugn  his 
conduct,  in  certain  instances,  as  indiscreet,  to  say  the  least ; 
but  we  are  firmly  convinced  that  in  no  case,  even  the  most 
difficult,  could  he  have  done  less  than  he  did  without  sacri- 
ficing that  steadfastness  of  purpose  which  he  would  have 
died  sooner  than  relinquish.  He  could  not  have  been 
more  discreet,  even  in  appearance,  without  being  less  firm. 
But  there  have  not  been  wanting  those  who  considered  his 
very  caution  a  fault ;  and  we  have  heard  him  charged 
with  a  morbidly  scrupulous  care  for  his  own  reputation. 


132  JOHN    KMOKY. 

A  newly  published  book  was  once  under  discussion  in  the 
presence  of  one  of  our  living  bishops,  and  several  errors, 
evidently  the  result  of  carelessness,  being  pointed  out,  the 
bishop  remarked,  "  Brother  Emory  would  have  worked  his 
finger-nails  off  before  such  inaccuracies  could  appear  in  a 
publication  of  his."  The  remark  was  no  exaggeration. 
No  man  could  be  more  conscientious  as  an  author  than 
John  Emory.  So  great  was  his  anxiety  that  all  his  com- 
positions should  be  finished,  that  we  have  known  him,  after 
correcting  and  recorrecting  until  his  manuscript  had  be- 
come the  plague  of  the  compositors,  to  make  free  with  the 
proofs  to  an  alarming  extent,  and  sometimes  to  throw  down 
whole  paragraphs  and  pages  after  they  had  been  set  up. 
Shall  we  call  this  a  fault,  and  thus  sanction  that  lazy  confi- 
dence which  enables  some  writers  to  utter  their  crude 
thoughts  in  careless  language,  to  the  disgrace  of  the  Church 
and  the  injury  of  good  letters  ?  By  no  means.  Rather  let 
us  praise  the  sternness  of  principle  which  governed  the 
man  even  in  such  matters,  and  the  prudence  which  caused 
him  so  anxiously  to  strive  for  correctness  in  all  things. 
The  UmcB  labor  is  not  so  common  that  we  can  afford  to 
stigmatize  it  as  a  weakness. 

Such  were  some  of  the  prominent  traits  of  Bishop 
Emory's  character.  Less  known,  of  course,  were  the 
strength  and  tenderness  of  his  affections.  How  touchingly 
beautiful  are  the  letters  written  to  his  mother,  at  the  time 
of  trial  to  which  we  have  referred !  How  carefully  he 
avoids  any  allusion  to  his  father's  course,  and  how  tenderly 
he  speaks  of  him  afterward !  The  opinion  seems  to  have 
gained  ground,  in  some  quarters,  that  he  was  cold  and 
repulsive;  and  some,  observing  the  stern  severity  of  his 
manner  in  the  performance  of  public  duty,  have  judged 


JOHN    EMORY.  133 

that  his  heart  was  formed  in  the  mould  of  austerity.  Those 
thought  differently  who  knew  him  well.  In  the  account, 
given  in  his  own  language,  of  his  wife's  death,  every  word 
is  fraught  with  feeling;  and  never  was  there. a  nobler  ex- 
pression of  human  love  than  is  found  in  the  closing  passage 
of  a  letter  to  his  mother-in-law  on  that  mournful  occasion  : 
"  I  think,  sometimes,  that  I  could  brave  death  to  see  her 
only."  The  letters  to  his  family  and  near  friends,  espe- 
cially in  times  of  sickness,  trial,  or  death,  literally  breathe 
the  spirit  of  love. 

But  there  was  some  ground  for  the  opinion  that  he  was 
not  remarkably  affable ;  certainly  he  was  not  as  accessible 
as  he  might  have  been  without  any  detraction  from  his 
dignity.  This  remark,  however,  can  only  apply  to  his 
business  intercourse  with  others.  "When  he  gave  himself 
to  the  enjoyments  of  the  social  circle  he  was  delightfully 
easy ;  there,  and  there  only,  did  his  heart  find  its  full  play. 
His  friendships,  too,  were  sincere  and  steadfast,  and  they 
could  not  be  otherwise  in  a  nature  of  so  much  depth  and 
constancy  as  his.  His  biographer  tells  us  that  "  his  heart 
was  too  warm  and  generous  not  to  seek  some  kindred  spirits 
with  whom  to  hold  sweet  converse ;  though  even  with  these, 
his  most  unreserved  intercourse  never  descended  to  anything 
unbecoming  the  Christian  or  the  minister."  "We  think  it 
may  be  said,  in  addition  to  this,  that  he  was  not  communica- 
tive even  to  his  best  friends.  He  was  not  accustomed  to  in- 
dulge the  entire  heart  in  the  gushing  flow  of  sympathy ;  his 
soul  did  not  utter  itself,  as  some  men's  do,  in  all  its  fulness; 
nor  did  he  "  delight  in  the  detail  of  feeling,  in  the  outward 
and  visible  signs  of  the  sacrament  within — to  count,  as  it 
were,  the  pulses  of  the  life  of  love."  His  affections  were 
always  under  the  control  of  his  judgment. 


134  JOHN    EMORY. 

To  attempt  a  regular  analysis  of  Bishop  Emory's  mind, 
is  a  task  to  which  we  dare  not  address  ourselves.  No  man 
can  trace  his  history  and  read  his  writings  without  perceiv- 
ing that  accuracy  was  one  of  his  highest  aims.  This  re- 
sulted not  only  from  the  character  of  his  mind,  but  from 
his  mental  habits,  formed  early  in  life.  He  could  never  be 
satisfied  with  partial  views  of  any  subject.  "  In  boyhood," 
says  his  biographer,  "whether  the  subject  of  inquiry  was 
the  pronunciation  of  a  word,  or  a  question  of  science  or 
religion,  he  could  not  be  content  with  conjecture,  when 
certainty  might  be  attained."  And,  in  after  life,  he  studied 
thoroughly  whatever  he  undertook  to  examine  at  all,  and 
in  setting  forth  the  result  of  his  labours,  he  surrounded  his 
subject  with  an  atmosphere  of  light.  He  had  the  clearness 
of  Guizot,  though  without  his  eloquence.  Indeed,  the  most 
prominent  feature  of  his  mind,  it  seems  to  us,  was  its 
method.  "When  he  spoke,  you  saw  that  every  sentence 
was  thought  out,  and  present  to  his  mind  as  a  whole,  before 
he  uttered  a  syllable.  In  writing,  too,  he  always  took  care 
to  see  the  end  from  the  beginning.  Good  logic  was  natural 
to  him ;  a  sophism  grated  on  his  mind  very  much  as  dis- 
cord annoys  a  musical  ear.  A  difficult  question  fell  to 
pieces  before  his  power  of  analysis  just  as  a  compound  sub- 
stance is  decomposed  by  chemical  agents.  Nor  was  his 
method  mere  arrangement,  that  empty  counterfeit  which 
cheats  some  men  into  the  belief  that  they  have  well-ordered 
minds,  as  if  to  build  up  a  science  were  the  same  thing  as  to 
make  a  dictionary.  It  consisted,  first,  in  the  natural  clear- 
ness of  his  understanding,  and,  secondly,  in  his  habitual 
reference  of  the  species  to  the  genus — the  subordination  of 
the  parts  to  the  whole — the  contemplation  of  the  relations 
of  things  as  well  as  of  the  things  themselves.  His  associa- 


JOHN    EMORY.  185 

tions  were  principally  made  under  the  law  of  cause  and 
effect ;  the  principle  involved  in  any  phenomenon,  and  not 
the  mere  attendant  circumstances  of  time  and  place,  took 
root  in  his  mind,  so  that  his  memory  was  eminently  phil- 
osophical. Add  to  this  his  methodical  industry,  and  you 
have  the  secret  of  his  extensive  knowledge,  his  readiness  in 
debate,  his  admirable  self-possession  as  a  presiding  officer, 
and  even  the  versatility  which  enabled  him  to  excel  in  all 
that  he  undertook.  He  understood  most  thoroughly  the 
value  of  the  old  maxim,  everything  in  its  place,  a  maxim 
for  which  genius  itself  can  find  no  substitute.  Coleridge 
says  truly,  that  "  where  this  charm  is  wanting,  every  other 
merit  either  loses  its  name,  or  becomes  an  additional  ground 
of  accusation  and  regret.  The  man  of  methodical  industry 
organizes  the  hours  and  gives  them  a  soul;  and  that,  the 
very  essence  of  which  is  to  fleet  away,  and  evermore  to 
ha/ve  been,  he  takes  up  into  his  own  permanence,  and 
communicates  to  it  the  imperishableness  of  a  spiritual 
nature.  Of  the  good  and  faithful  servant,  whose  ener- 
gies are  thus  methodized,  it  is  less  truly  affirmed,  that  he 
lives  in  time,  than  that  time  lives  in  him."  Bishop 
Emory  was,  to  a  remarkable  degree,  this  good  and  faithful 
servant. 

We  do  not  hesitate,  therefore,  to  say  that  he  was  a  man 
of  great  talent.  But  he  was  not  a  man  of  genius.  Every 
subject  had  to  be  brought  within  the  scope  of  his  under- 
standing, and  when  there,  he  was  perfectly  master  of  it ; 
but  in  the  outer  region  of  the  imagination  he  was  compara- 
tively a  stranger.  No  poetry  has  been  foimd  among  his 
remains,  and  for  a, very  good  reason;  he  did  not  possess 
"  the  vision  and  the  faculty  divine."  It  was  not  for  him  to 
clothe  his  thoughts  in 


136  JOHN     KMORT. 

"  The  light  that  never  was  on  sea  or  land, 
The  consecration,  and  the  poet's  dream  ;" 

for  the  light  that  was  in  him,  and  which  he  poured  forth 
in  a  flood  of  radiance  upon  every  subject  properly  within 
his  sphere,  was  the  light  of  the  understanding,  and  not  of 
the  imagination.  That  he  would  have  been  a  greater  man 
if  more  richly  endowed  with  this  highest  of  human  gifts, 
we  cannot  doubt.  His  preaching  would  have  been  more 
attractive,  his  writings  more  fervent  and  glowing,  and  his 
whole  character  more  ardent.  The  powers  that  he  pos- 
sessed qualified  him  admirably,  however,  to  discharge  the 
duties  that  devolved  upon  him,  and  he  worked  better,  per- 
haps, with  his  diversified  talents,  than  a  man  of  genius 
could  have  done  in  the  same  circumstances.  What  we 
have  said  of  him,  thus  far,  amounts  to  this:  that  he  was 
eminently  a  practical  man.  "Without  knowing  the  extent 
of  his  studies  in  modern  philosophy,  we  can  easily  imagine 
the  contempt  in  which  he  would  have  held  transcendental- 
ism. German  metaphysics  must  have  been  all  cloudland 
to  him.  He  would  have  placed  Kant  and  Schelling  upon 
the  same  shelf  with  Jacob  Behmen  and  Baron  Sweden- 
borg.  Even  Cousin  could  have  found  no  favour  with  him. 
To  some  this  will  seem  high  praise ;  to  others,  just  the 
reverse  ;  but,  at  all  events,  we  believe  it  to  be  true. 

Dr.  Emory  was  a  deeply  pious  man,  in  the  highest  sense 
of  the  word.  Religion,  with  him,  was  not  merely  a  matter 
of  principle  and  habit,  but  had  its  root  deep  in  his  heart, 
and  gave  worth  and  dignity  to  his  entire  being.  He 
was  not  much  given  to  talk  about  his  personal  religion — 
the  stream  was  too  deep  for  that;  but  his  communion 
with  God  was,  we  doubt  not,  uniform  and  abundant. 
Equally  removed  from  formality  and  enthusiasm,  his 


JOHN    EMORY.  137 

piety  purified  his  affections,  elevated  his  intellect,  and  con- 
trolled his  life. 

In  this  sketch  the  writer  has  endeavoured  to  set  forth  the 
character  of  John  Emory  with  all  the  impartiality  which  is 
compatible  with  the  deepest  reverence  and  the  tenderest 
love ;  at  the  close  he  may  be  allowed  one  breathing  of  his 
own  personal  feelings.  Little  did  he  think,  when  at  the 
Troy  Conference  of  1835,  the  bishop,  at  the  close  of  an 
interview  in  which  he  had  imparted  some  of  the  rich  treas- 
ures of  his  experience  in  kind  advice,  folded  him  affec- 
tionately in  his  arms  and  bade  him  farewell,  that  it  was  a 
farewell  forever !  Earnest  was  his  last  gaze  upon  that  form 
beloved,  but  O,  how  earnest  would  it  have  been  had  he 
known  that  it  was  the  last.  Carefully  did  he  record  in  his 
memory  the  words  of  manly  wisdom  that  fell  from  those 
honoured  lips — how  would  each  precious  syllable  have 
been  treasured,  had  he  known  that  these  were  the  last 
accents  of  that  almost  father's  voice  that  should  fall  upon 
his  ear !  To  the  writer,  the  name  of  EMOKY  is  fragrant 
with  a  thousand  blessed  recollections.  And  many  hearts, 
throughout  this  continent,  will  throb  in  unison  with  his 
own,  when  he  declares,  that  for  him,  that  name  is  the  very 
synonyme  of  nobleness  and  honour,  associated,  as  it  is, 
with  all  that  is  elevated  in  intellect,  all  that  is  magnani- 
mous in  self-devotion,  all  that  is  pure  in  virtue,  and  all  that 
is  sublime  in  piety. 


obtrt 


LATE    A    BISHOP    OF    THE    METHODIST    EPISCOPAL    CHURCH. 


"TuE  grandfather  of  all  the  missionaries!"  Such  was  the 
expressive  designation  by  which  the  red  men  of  the  Far 
West  were  wont  to  speak  of  him  whose  benignant  features 
beam  upon  the  reader  from  the  opposite  page.  For  many 
years  the  senior  superintendent  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church, — an  apostolic  bishop,  deriving  his  title  and  his 
authority  from  the  highest  source,  and  ever  exercising  his 
functions  with  gentleness  and  diligence,  with  meekness  and 
yet  with  firmness  and  decision,  he  was  esteemed  and  beloved 
by  the  clergy  and  the  laity — honoured  in  life  and  lamented 
in  death  by  the  refined  and  the  wealthy  no  less  than  by 
the  poor  and  the  uneducated.  Simple  in  his  manners,  and 
yet  gracefully  dignified, — unobtrusive  and  diffident,  but 
never  forgetful  of  the  responsibilities  devolving  upon 
him, — eloquent,  and  of  course  always  plain  and  intelligi- 
ble in  his  public  ministrations,  he  was  equally  at  home 
in  the  wigwam  of  the  savage,  on  the  rough  stand  of 
the  camp-meeting,  or  when  proclaiming  the  unsearchable 
riches  of  Christ  from  the  pulpits  of  metropolitan  cities. 
His  memory  is  precious,  and  it  is  a  pleasant  thing  to  trace 
the  successive  steps  of  a  life  so  simple  and  so  honoured, 
and  to  mark  therein  the  all-sufficiency  of  the  Saviour's 
grace. 


140  KOBEKT    B.    KOBEKTS. 

He  was  a  native  of  Maryland,  the  son  of  a  poor  farmer, 
who,  at  the  call  of  his  country,  shouldered  his  musket  in 
the  war  of  the  Kevolution,  and  was  engaged  in  the  battle 
of  the  Brandywine  with  Lafayette,  and  at  Germantown 
and  "White  Plains  with  "Washington.  The  patriot-farmer 
was  enabled  to  give  his  children  but  little  education,  and 
he  left  them  no  patrimony  save  the  legacy  of  his  good 
name.  Robert's  early  training  devolved  mainly  upon  his 
mother.  By  her  he  was  taught  to  read  the  Scriptures,  to 
say  his  prayers  night  and  morning,  and  to  recite  from  the 
Catechism  of  the  English  Church.  Some  six  or  eight 
months  schooling  from  an  Irish  pedagogue,  by  whom  he 
was  instructed  in  penmanship,  the  rudiments  of  English 
grammar,  and  the  first  rules  of  arithmetic,  completed  his 
scholastic  course.  As  in  the  case  of  the  two  most  eminent 
disciples  of  the  Saviour,  at  whose  bold  eloquence  the  peo- 
ple marvelled,  knowing  them  to  be  ignorant  and  unedu- 
cated men,  so,  frequently,  after  listening  to  words  of  power 
from  the  lips  of  the  farmer's  boy,  men  were  wont  to 
account  for  the  marvel  by  taking  knowledge  of  him  that 
he  "  had  been  with  Jesus."  His  whole  ministerial  life  was 
an  illustration  of  the  glorious  verity,  that  God  hath  chosen 
the  weak  things  of  the  world  to  confound  the  things  which 
are  mighty. 

When  about  ten  years  of  age  he  removed  with  his 
parents  into  "Westmoreland  County,  in  the  State  of  Penn- 
sylvania, and  here,  with  his  mother,  he  went  soon  after  to 
hear  one  of  the  pioneer  heralds  of  the  sect  everywhere 
spoken  against.  The  Methodist  preacher  brought  certain 
strange  things  to  their  ears.  His  word  was  with  power. 
The  little  boy,  for  the  first  time,  felt  himself  to  be  a  sinner. 
He  wept  and  trembled.  His  father  had  indeed  denounced 


ROBERT    R.    ROBERTS.  141 

the  whole  sect,  and  the  lad  had  been  taught  to  regard  this 
messenger  of  Christ  as  a  false  prophet.  But  this  did  not 
soothe  his  pain,  nor  extract  the  rankling  arrow.  Some- 
thing within  whispered  that  the  words  to  which  he  had 
listened  were  God's  own  truth ;  and  he  felt  the  necessity 
of  changing  his  course  of  life,  that,  if  possible,  he  might 
avert  impending  wrath.  Now  he  began  to  aim  at  leading 
a  new  life.  He  resolved  to  be  obedient  and  dutiful  to  his 
parents,  to  shun  bad  company,  to  be  watchful  over  his  lips, 
and  to  read  with  more  care  the  Bible,  and  such  religious 
books  as  fell  in  his  way. 

The  plan  of  salvation  by  faith  was  as  yet  unknown  to 
him ;  nor,  as  it  seems,  had  he  any  other  idea  of  prayer 
than  as  the  repetition  of  forms  laid  down  in  the  Catechism 
and  repeated  from  memory.  Returning  homeward  one 
evening  from  the  labours  of  the  day,  (for  he  was  now 
engaged  in  assisting  his  father  on  the  farm,)  he  overheard 
in  the  woods  near  the  house  the  voice  of  his  sister,  some 
years  older  than  himself,  uttering  the  language  apparently 
of  heartfelt  trouble  and  grief.  He  drew  nearer  to  the 
spot,  and  ascertained  to  his  surprise  that  she  was  pleading 
with  God  for  the  pardon  of  her  sins.  Awe-struck,  the  lad 
listened  to  her  supplications.  What  had  Elizabeth  done 
that  she,  so  amiable,  so  much  better  than  himself,  should 
be  in  such  deep  distress,  such  apparent  agony  ?  He  retired 
without  being  observed,  and  said  nothing  of  the  strange 
scene  he  had  witnessed.  But  he  pondered  it  in  his  heart, 
and  soon  after  found  his  own  way  to  the  throne  of  grace, 
where,  in  secret,  he  also  called  upon  his  God. 

Several  years  elapsed,  however,  before  he  found  peace 
in  believing.  His  sisters,  then  his  mother  and  two  of  his 
brothers,  and  afterwards  his  father,  united  with  the  Meth- 


142  ROBERT    R.     ROBERTS. 

odists,  and  their  dwelling  became  a  regular  preaching 
place  for  the  itinerant  ministry.  But  Robert,  industrious 
in  his  field-labours,  attentive  to  all  the  means  of  grace 
within  his  reach,  and  an  earnest  seeker  of  salvation,  did 
not  venture  to  have  his  name  enrolled  upon  the  class- 
paper. 

"  What  rough-looking  boy  is  that  in  the  hunter's  shirt  ?" 
Such  was  the  not  unfrequent  inquiry  of  those  who  came  to 
his  father's  house,  especially  on  quarterly-meeting  occa- 
sions, when  it  was  used,  a  rude  log-cabin  though  it  was,  as 
a  temple  for  the  solemn  worship  of  the  Most  High.  That 
rough-looking  lad,  so  busily  employed  in  waiting  upon 
those  who  came  from  a  distance,  in  preparing  for  their 
accommodation  and  taking  care  of  their  horses, — esteem- 
ing nothing  too  degrading  or  too  menial, — that  rough- 
looking  boy  in  the  hunter's  shirt  is  he  who  is  destined  to 
preach  Christ  to  listening  thousands  from  one  end  of  the 
continent  to  the  other;  to  superintend  the  affairs  of  the 
most  numerous  religious  denomination  in  the  land;  to  pre- 
side over  conferences  of  learned  ecclesiastics;  to  fill  the 
seat  of  the  sainted  Asbury  as  the  colleague  of  the  mild 
M'Kendree,  the  fervent  George,  and  the  sagacious  Hed- 
ding.  Scarcely  less  improbable  was  it  to  the  eye  of  human 
reason,  that  he  who  held  the  murderers'  clothes  at  the 
martyrdom  of  Stephen  should  finish  his  course  with  joy, 
"  not  a  whit  behind  the  very  chiefest  apostles." 

Robert  was  now  in  his  fourteenth  year,  tall  and  stout 
for  his  age,  with  a  body  inured  to  toil,  and,  his  brothers 
having  left  the  paternal  home,  the  chief  dependence  of  his 
father  in  the  cultivation  of  his  farm.  Still  serious,  peni- 
tent, and  anxiously  seeking  to  know  and  to  do  the  will  of 
God,  light  dawned  upon  him  from  the  Sun  of  righteous- 


ROBERT    R.     ROBERTS.  143 

ness  while  engaged  in  secret  prayer.  His  own  account,  as 
given  in  after  years,  is  characteristic  of  the  man.  "  One 
day,"  he  says,  "  about  sunrise,  in  the  month  of  May,  I  was 
in  a  corner  of  the  fence  praying,  when,  I  humbly  trust, 
my  sins  were  pardoned,  and  God,  for  Christ's  sake, 
accepted  me.  Before  that  time  I  had  frequently  had 
sweet  intimations  of  the  goodness  and  mercy  of  the  Lord. 
My  heart  was  tender,  and  I  felt  as  if  I  could  love  God  and 
his  people ;  but  yet,  until  that  morning,  my  mind  was 
not  at  rest.  Then  everything  seemed  changed.  Nature 
wore  a  new  aspect  as  I  arose  and  went  with  cheerfulness 
to  my  work,  although  I  did  not  then  know  whether  I  had 
received  all  that  I  should  look  for  in  conversion.  I  never 
had  such  alarming  views  of  my  condition  as  some  have 
experienced.  My  mind  was  gradually  opened,  and  although 
I  had  led  a  moral  life,  I  firmly  believed  that  my  heart  must 
be  changed.  I  do  not  remember  the  precise  day  of  my 
conversion,  though  the  scene,  as  it  occurred  that  morning, 
has  ever  been  deeply  printed  on  my  memory." 

Such  is  his  own  simple  narrative  of  that  most  important 
event  in  his  history.  And.  now  the  Spirit  whispered,  "  Go 
thou  and  preach  the  kingdom  of  God;"  but  his  natural 
diffidence,  no  less  than  what  he  deemed  his  totally  inade- 
quate education,  prevented  him  from  making  known  to 
the  Church  his  impressions  upon  the  subject.  But  he 
preached,  nevertheless.  Following  the  plough  or  feeding 
cattle,  clearing  the  land  or  gathering  in  the  harvest,  his 
mind  was  intently  occupied  with  subjects  for  the  pulpit. 
The  farm  was  his  theological  seminary.  There  he  mused 
and  meditated  upon  what  he  had  heard  on  the  preceding 
Sabbath,  or  read  in  the  intervals  of  his  toil.  He  made 
skeletons  of  sermons,  and  accustomed  himself  to  the  sound 


144  ROBERT    R.     ROBERTS. 

of  his  own  voice  by  proclaiming  to  the  trees  of  the  forest 
the  glad  tidings  of  salvation.  He  was  appointed  leader 
of  a  class,  and  by  slow  degrees,  and  after  many  struggles, 
acquired  sufficient  confidence  to  speak  to  the  members  a 
few  words  of  exhortation.  The  little  flock  there  in  the 
wilderness  were  edified,  and  seconded  the  motion  of  the 
Spirit  that  the  pulpit  was  the  appropriate  place  for  their 
youthful  leader.  He  was  himself  satisfied  of  the  fact,  and 
devoted  all  his  leisure  to  the  diligent  perusal  of  the  Bible 
and  the  writings  of  "Wesley  and  Fletcher;  but  he  could 
not  bring  himself  to  ask  for  a  license  to  preach.  He 
shrunk  from  the  fearful  responsibility.  The  preachers 
who  visited  that  region  invited  him  again  and  again  to 
exhort  publicly,  and  to  commence  the  exercise  of  those 
gifts  with  which  they  knew  him  to  be  endowed,  but 
in  vain. 

"  How  ready  is  the  man  to  go 

Whom  God  has  never  sent ; 
How  backward,  timorous,  and  slow 

God's  chosen  instrument !" 

On  reaching  his  twentieth  year,  as  if  to  hedge  up  his 
way  completely  from  what  he  nevertheless  felt  to  be  the 
path  of  duty,  he  married.  This  event,  it  is  thought,  was 
hastened,  with  a  view  of  relieving  himself  from  the  pros- 
pect of  the  itinerant  ministry ;  for  very  few  of  those  who 
thus  sought  the  lost  sheep  of  the  house  of  Israel  were 
encumbered  with  families,  and  the  reception  into  an  Annual 
Conference  of  a  married  preacher  was  in  those  days  an 
event  almost  unprecedented.  But, his  marriage  brought 
no  rest  to  his  mind.  The  impression  of  duty  was  not  to 
be  shaken  off.  Mental  darkness  and  dejection  of  spirits 
overwhelmed  him.  He  became  unfitted  for  business,  and 


ROBERT    R.     ROBERTS. 


was  signally  unsuccessful  in  the  management  of  his  worldly 
affairs.  Unasked  for,  a  license  to  exhort  was  put  into  his 
hands,  with  the  hope  that  it  would  induce  him  to  go  for- 
ward in  the  path  of  duty  ;  but  he  made  no  use  of  it,  and 
it  served  only  to  increase  his  distress  by  silently  reminding 
him  of  what  the  Church  expected  and  of  his  own  delin- 
quency. After  a  sermon  on  the  ensuing  Christmas-day, 
the  preacher  publicly  requested  him  to  come  forward  and 
conclude  the  service  with  an  exhortation.  Mr.  Roberts 
declined,  and  ran  out  of  the  house.  A  few  days  after,  the 
preacher  —  he  was  a  local  preacher,  holding  an  office  some- 
what similar  to  that  of  Ananias,  who  was  sent  to  open  the 
eyes  of  Saul  of  Tarsus  —  sent  to  him,  in  writing,  what  he 
called  a  vision  of  the  night.  "I  thought,"  said  he,  "I 
had  got  free  from  this  region  of  misery  and  woe,  and  was 
admitted  into  the  world  of  spirits.  I  beheld  there  bright 
thrones,  and  one  in  an  exalted  station,  on  which  was 
placed  a  crown  dazzling  with  brightness.  It  was  fixed 
near  those  of  the  prophets,  apostles,  martyrs,  and  eminent 
ministers  of  the  gospel.  I  drew  nigh  to  behold  it,  and  was 
informed  it  was  for  you. 

"I  thought  the  Saviour  commanded  that  you  should  be 
brought  forward  to  see  what  was  here  in  reservation  for 
you.  In  a  short  time  a  seraph  fulfilled  the  high  command, 
and  you  were  placed  in  presence  of  the  great  King.  The 
Saviour  fixed  his  eyes  upon  you,  which  kindled  in  your 
heart  a  burning  love  to  him,  causing  you  to  neglect  every- 
thing else.  Overcome  by  the  divine  presence,  you  fell  at 
the  glorious  feet  of  the  £javiour  and  poured  out  a  flood  of 
gratitude.  He  said  to  you,  '  Son,  thou  art  ever  with  me. 
All  this  glory  shall  be  thine,  yet  the  way  thereto  is  not 
only  difficult,  but  contrary  to  flesh  and  blood.'  I  thought 

10 


146  KOBEET    K.     ROBERTS. 

you  replied,  'Make  known  to  me  the  way,  and  in  thy 
strength  will  I  walk  therein.'  He  then  said,  '  Go  quickly 
forth  among  the  crowds  of  earth,  and  let  love  and  pity 
raise  thy  voice  aloud  to  inform  them  that  I  am  willing  to 
save  the  chief  of  sinners  from  hell  and  from  a  dreadful 
eternity.' " 

In  the  course  of  the  dream  various  objections  are  made 
by  him  for  whom  this  bright  throne  was  prepared:  his 
unfitness  for  so  great  a  work,  his  lack  of  gifts,  his  unholi- 
ness,  his  dread  of  criticism,  his  pride.  By  the  ingenious 
dreamer  these  are  all  overruled,  and  shown  to  be  mere 
delusions  of  the  enemy ;  and  the  conclusion  is  the  utter- 
ance, by  the  hitherto  disobedient  prophet,  of  Paul's  mem- 
orable words — "  Woe  is  me  if  I  preach  not  the  gospel !" 

Frequently  in  after  life  was  the  good  bishop  wont  to 
advert  to  the  dream  of  the  local  preacher;  and,  now  that 
he  is  seated  upon  that  throne,  and  wears  that  dazzling 
crown,  is  it  unlawful  to  suppose  that  this  reminiscence  of 
the  past  may  form  an  ingredient  in  his  cup  of  perfect 
bliss? 

Soon  after,  at  a  watch-night,  he  gave  his  first  public 
exhortation,  having  journeyed  some  six  or  seven  miles  on 
foot  for  the  purpose  of  being  present.  He  was  clad 
in  the  garb  of  a  backwoodsman;  but  his  discourse,  says 
one  who  was  privileged  to  hear  it,  "  was  worthy  of  gray 
hairs  and  broadcloth."  In  fact,  the  whole  congregation 
were  perfectly  amazed  at  the  eloquence  of  his  appeal — 
its  propriety  of  language  and  its  force  of  argument.  He 
preached  his  trial  sermon  from  the  words  of  the  prophet, 
"  O  Lord,  revive  thy  work,"  and  was  recommended  to  the 
Baltimore  Conference  as  a  suitable  person  to  be  received 
as  a  travelling  preacher.  He  did  not  attend  the  meeting 


EGBERT    K.     ROBERTS.  14T 

of  that  body,  having,  as  he  conceived,  done  his  duty  by 
consenting  that  his  application  should  be  forwarded,  and, 
with  a  mind  at  rest,  he  awaited  the  result.  The  responsi- 
bility was  now  thrown  from  his  own  shoulders ;  and  if  the 
Conference  had  declined  to  receive  him,  he  would  have 
taken  their  decision  as  the  voice  of  God  and  rejoiced,  for, 
as  yet,  he  dreaded  the  sacrifices,  the  trials,  and  the  toils  of 
an  itinerant  life.  Such,  indeed,  had  nearly  been  the  result. 
On  the  presentation  of  his  name,  objections  were  made  to 
his  reception.  Most  of  the  leading  members  of  the  body 
were  single  men,  and  young  Roberts  had  a  wife.  The 
few  who  were  acquainted  with  him  stated  his  qualifica- 
tions and  eulogized  his  talents.  They  knew  Mrs.  Roberts 
also,  and  were  satisfied  that  she  would  be  no  hindrance  to 
her  husband  in  the  work  of  the  ministry ;  but  the  preju- 
dice against  receiving  married  preachers  was  so  strong  that 
but  a  bare  majority  voted  for  his  reception,  and  he  was 
appointed  as  junior  preacher  on  the  Carlisle  Circuit. 

As  is  the  case  with  regard  to  most  of  the  early  Methodist 
preachers,  there  are  but  few  memorials  of  the  labours  of 
this  young  itinerant.  "He  was  powerful  and  popular 
from  the  beginning,"  is  the  brief  but  comprehensive  testi- 
mony of  one  who  knew  him  well.  At  the  various  appoint- 
ments on  his  circuit,  he  was,  as  a  preacher,  exceedingly 
popular.  The  more  intelligent  portions  of  the  people  of  all 
denominations  attended  upon  his  ministry.  As  a  singular 
peculiarity,  it  is  stated  that  this  tended  rather  to  intimidate 
than  to  encourage  him ;  and,  at  one  of  his  Sabbath  appoint- 
ments, seeing  the  multitudes  flocking  to  the  house  where 
he  was  expected  to  preach,  his  heart  failed  him,  and  he  hid 
himself  away  until  long  after  the  time  for  commencing 
worship.  He  then  dragged  himself  into  the  church,  where 


KOBEKT     R.     KOBEBTS. 

lie  hoped  to  find  some  local  preacher  in  the  pulpit.  He 
was  disappointed,  entered  the  sacred  desk,  and,  after  a  few 
minutes  spent  in  secret  prayer,  conducted  the  service  with 
unusual  liberty.  "  His  performance  on  that  occasion,"  says 
his  biographer,  "  was  spoken  of  with  enthusiasm  by  the 
elite  of  the  town,  and  served  as  a  new  reason  for  the 
increase  of  his  congregation  in  future."  His  unaffected 
modesty  won  the  hearts  of  his  hearers;  his  solid  good 
sense  instructed  the  most  intelligent;  and  the  deep  vein 
of  piety  and  the  holy  unction  which  imbued  his  discourse, 
"  became  wine  and  fat  things  to  the  religious  part  of  his 
audience." 

With  some  of  his  own  people,  however,  he  was  not  so 
popular.  His  love  of  order  and  decorum,  and  his  natural 
good  taste,  revolted  from  practices  which,  to  some  extent, 
were  common  in  those  regions  at  that  day,  and  which  were 
deemed,  by  the  more  enthusiastic,  as  sure  evidences  of  the 
divine  presence.  Loud  shouting,  jumping,  clapping  of 
hands,  and  falling  prostrate  upon  the  floor,  embarrassed 
the  young  man  exceedingly.  "  We  like  him,"  said  they, 
"well  enough  as  a  preacher;  but  when  our  meetings 
become  lively  he  stops,  and  has  nothing  to  say."  So  it 
was  all  through  life.  As  junior  preacher,  when  in  charge 
of  a  circuit  or  station,  as  presiding  elder  of  a  district,  and 
when  in  the  office  of  bishop,  he  stopped  and  said  nothing 
during  these  occasional  paroxysms  of  excited  feeling  ;  but 
that  was  all.  He  uttered  no  language  of  rebuke,  lest  he 
might  thereby  cause  Christ's  little  ones  to  stumble.  He 
stood  still,  and  resumed  not  his  discourse' until  the  storm 
had  passed  away.  The  result  was,  that  when  Roberts  was 
in  the  pulpit,  while  there  was  always  deep  feeling,  mingled 
at  times  with  the  half-stifled  sobs  of  the  penitent,  the 


ROBERT     R.     ROBERTS.  149 

people  controlled  these  boisterous  manifestations,  and  all 
things  pertaining  to  divine  worship  were  done  in  accord- 
ance with  the  apostolic  direction,  decently  and  in  order. 

While  he  was  upon  Montgomery  Circuit,  to  which  he 
was  transferred  at  the  close  of  his  first  year's  labour,  he 
was  invited  to  attend  a  camp-meeting  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Baltimore,  the  first  ever  held  east  of  the  Alleghany 
Mountains.  This  was  in  the  summer  of  1803.  It  was  a 
time  of  great  power.  Sinners  fell  in  every  direction.  The 
noise  and  confusion  unfavourably  affected  the  mind  of 
Mr.  Roberts.  He  became  very  much  troubled.  For  two 
days  he  was  in  a  state  of  sadness  and  dejection.  He  knew 
not  what  to  do.  Balancing  the  evil  and  the  good,  and 
endeavouring  to  lay  aside  his  prejudices  and  preposses- 
sions, he  retired  into  the  woods,  where,  after  a  season  of 
secret  prayer,  his  mind  became  relieved,  and  he  was 
enabled  to  take  part  in  the  exercises.  Thereafter,  although 
he  occasionally  attended  such  meetings,  and  preached  at 
them  in  the  demonstration  of  the  Spirit  and  with  power, 
he  never  greatly  admired  them,  and  had  doubts  of  their 
propriety;  at  least,  in  those  parts  of  the  country  where 
there  are  houses  of  worship  sufficient  to  accommodate  the 
people. 

For  the  sake  of  his  own  comments,  we  may  here  advert 
to  an  undertaking  which  Mr.  Roberts  afterward  regretted. 
This  was  the  building  of  a  mill,  from  the  profits  of  which 
he  hoped  to  maintain  his  family.  Thirty-seven  years  after- 
ward he  gives  this  account  of  the  matter,  with  advice  less 
needed  now,  we  venture  to  hope,  than  in  the  earlier  days 
of  Methodism.  "I  would  advise,"  he  says,  "all  preachers 
never  to  quit  the  work  of  the  Lord  to  serve  tables.  How- 
ever fair  their  prospects  at  making  money  may  be,  they 


ROBERT    K.     ROBERTS. 

are  frequently  delusive,  and  such  ministers  are  losers  in  the 
end.  As  I  had  but  little  support  from  quarterage,  I  thought 
my  family  could  be  maintained  by  a  mill,  and  I  should  be 
better  able  to  travel  without  anxiety.  But  it  was  not  so. 
It  embarrassed  my  mind  and  took  up  my  attention ;  and 
though  for  a  while  it  did  well,  it  eventually  proved  a 
loss." 

The  Conference  passed  a  vote  of  censure  upon  his  con- 
duct for  thus  endeavoring  to  eke  out  the  scanty  pittance 
received  for  his  ministerial  support.  It  seems  to  us  that 
the  censure  was  more  deserved  by  the  people  to  whom  he 
broke  the  bread  of  life.  His  poverty  was  so  great  on  one 
occasion,  when  about  to  take  a  long  journey,  that  all  the 
cash  he  had  in  the  world  was  fifty  cents,  with  which,  and 
the  like  amount  borrowed  from  his  colleague,  he  left  the 
West  Wheeling  Circuit  to  attend  the  General  Conference 
at  Baltimore,  in  the  year  1808.  With  this  sum  in  his 
pocket  he  commenced,  on  horseback,  a  ride  of  three  hun- 
dred miles,  and  reached  his  destination  with  five  cents 
unexpended. 

At  the  Conference  he  appears  to  have  taken  but  little 
part  in  the  public  debates,  though  he  was  attentive  to  all 
the  business  brought  before  the  body ;  and  he  preached  in 
several  of  the  churches  with  so  much  acceptance,  that,  by 
the  urgent  request  of  the  people,  Bishop  Asbury  transferred 
him  from  his  circuit  and  gave  him  the  pastoral  charge  of 
the  church  in  Light-street,  in  the  city  of  Baltimore.  Here 
lie  maintained  his  reputation,  and,  after  two  years,  was 
transferred  to  Fell's  Point,  thence  to  Alexandria,  then  to 
Georgetown;  and  in  the  years  1813-14:  he  was  stationed  in 
the  city  of  Philadelphia.  The  year  following  he  was  made 
presiding  elder  of  the  Schuylkill  District,  and  there  being 


ROBERT    K.     ROBERTS.  151 

no  bishop  at  the  session  of  the  Annual  Conference  in  1816, 
Mr.  Roberts  was  chosen  to  preside  over  the  deliberations 
of  that  body. 

In  this  position  our  unlettered  backwoodsman  first 
evinced  his  peculiar  talent  as  a  presiding  officer.  Calm, 
courteous,  and  perfect  master  of  the  rules  for  the  govern- 
ment of  deliberative  bodies,  all  present,  including  many  of 
the  delegates  from  New- York  and  New-England,  who  were 
on  their  way  to  the  General  Conference  at  Baltimore,  were 
perfectly  charmed  with  him ;  so  that,  at  the  meeting  of  that 
body,  he  was  elected,  on  the  14th  of  May,  1816,  one  of  the 
bishops  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church. 

His  consecration  to  this  high  office  made  no  difference 
in  his  frugal  habits  or  his  unsophisticated  simplicity  of 
character.  In  preference  to  residing  within  the  limits  of 
a  large  city,  or  even  a  central  village,  as  many  of  his  friends 
thought  desirable,  he  located  himself  in  the  log-cabin,  built 
by  his  own  hands  previous  to  his  entrance  upon  the  minis- 
try. It  had,  indeed,  undergone  some  repairs,  and  was 
somewhat  enlarged  when  it  became  the  episcopal  resi- 
dence. It  was  the  abode  of  cheerfulness  and  hospitality, 
but  far  from  being  what  the  denizens  of  a  metropolis  would 
esteem  comfortable.  Thence  he  emigrated  with  his  family 
to  the  State  of  Indiana,  where,  in  the  wilderness,  another 
log-cabin  had  been  erected  for  him  by  his  brother.  It  was 
eighteen  miles  from  the  nearest  mill,  and  their  first  night's 
rest  in  this  new  abode,  where  the  bishop  continued  to  reside 
until  his  death,  was  disturbed  by  the  howling  of  the  wolves. 
In  the  intervals  of  the  Annual  Conferences  he  devoted  him- 
self to  the  clearing  of  the  woods  around  his  dwelling,  to 
hunting,  of  which  he  was  always  fond,  and  to  the  cultiva- 
tion of  the  soil.  During  his  whole  life  he  might  with  truth 


JL52  ROBERT    R.     ROBERTS. 

have  said,  "  These  hands  have  ministered  to  my  necessities 
and  to  them  that  were  with  me." 

At  the  same  time,  owing  to  his  economical  habits  and 
his  industry,  he  had  it  in  his  power  to  be  hospitable  and  to 
enjoy,  to  some  extent,  the  luxury  of  giving.  Knowing  the 
importance  of  education  from  his  own  lack  of  it,  he  made, 
during  his  lifetime,  liberal  donations  to  our  principal  semi- 
naries of  learning,  and  at  his  death  made  the  Asbury  Uni- 
versity his  residuary  legatee. 

In  his  journeyings  from  one  Conference  to  another, 
which,  until  the  last  few  years  of  his  life,  he  performed  on 
horseback,  he  seldom  made  himself  known  to  the  people 
among  whom  he  tarried  for  rest  or  refreshment.  His 
appearance  was  that  of  an  honest,  well-meaning  farmer, 
simple  and  unobtrusive.  Occasionally  some  direct  ques- 
tion would  cause  him  to  reveal  himself;  but  more  fre- 
quently not  until  he  had  gone  on  his  way  did  those  with 
whom  he  stopped  know  that  they  had  been  entertaining 
an  angel  unawares. 

On  one  of  his  Southern  tours  he  reached  a  village  in 
Virginia  where,  as  he  had  no  personal  acquaintances,  he 
stopped  at  a  public  house ;  and  on  the  next  day,  which  was 
the  Sabbath,  went  to  church,  where,  seated  among  the 
congregation,  he  listened  to  a  sermon  from  a  Methodist 
preacher.  Another  clergyman  of  the  same  denomination 
closed  the  service,  with  whom  the  bishop,  being  a  respecta- 
ble-looking stranger,  was  invited  home  to  dinner.  They 
discoursed  together  of  the  sermon  they  had  heard,  and  the 
bishop,  with  his  usual  modesty,  answered  the  questions 
which  were  proposed  to  him.  At  dinner  the  young 
preacher  asked  a  blessing,  and  continued  catechizing  his 
guest  as  to  whence  he  came,  his  business,  and  whither  he 


ROBERT    R.     ROBERTS.  153 

was  going ;  and  finally,  said  he,  "  What  is  your  name  ?" 

"  My  name,"  said  the  bishop,  "  is  Roberts." 

"  Roberts !  ah,  hum,"  inquired  his  host,  "  Roberts  ?  Any 
relation  of  Robert  R.  Roberts,  one  of  our  bishops  ?" 

"  That  is  my  name,"  said  the  stranger. 

The  surprise  of  the  young  man  may  be  imagined,  but 
the  benignity  of  the  good  bishop  soon  put  him  at  his 
ease. 

A  somewhat  similar  incident  the  bishop  was  himself  in 
the  habit  of  telling,  though  he  carefully  suppressed  the 
names  of  the  parties  concerned.  He  was  stopping  at  a 
tavern  for  a  night  on  one  of  his  journeys,  and,  after  having 
partaken  of  his  supper,  the  landlord  and  other  members  of 
the  family  proposed  to  leave  him  alone  while  they  went  to 
meeting. 

"  What  kind  of  a  meeting  is  it  ?"  asked  the  stranger. 

"  It  is  what  we  call  a  class-meeting." 

"  If  it  would  not  be  intruding,  I  should  like  to  go  with 
you." 

To  this  no  objection  was  made,  and  the  bishop  accom- 
panied them.  The  leader  was  a  young  man,  full  of  zeal 
and  of  very  fair  talents.  After  addressing  the  members  of 
the  class  individually  he  came  to  the  bishop,  when  the  fol- 
lowing conversation  ensued : — 

Leader.  Well,  stranger,  have  you  any  desire  to  serve 
the  Lord  and  get  to  heaven  ? 

Bishop.  I  have  such  a  desire. 

Leader.  How  long  have  you  had  this  desire  ? 

Bishop.  I  cannot  say  precisely,  but  for  many  years. 

This  put  the  leader  upon  his  met'tle,  and  he  continued, 
"  Well,  do  you  think,  old  gentleman,  that  you  know  any- 
thing about  experimental  religion  ?" 


156  KOBEBT    B.     BOBEETS. 

were  then  upon  him,  and  the  premonitions  of  disease 
warned  him  that  his  work  was  almost  done. 

On  the  following  Sabbath  he  was  again  induced  to 
preach.  His  text  was,  "  Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart : 
for  they  shall  see  God."  It  was  his  last  sermon.  He 
retired  from  the  sanctuary,  and  after  a  season  of  suffering, 
borne  with  exemplary  patience,  in  his  own  log-cabin  in 
the  wilds  of  Indiana,  the  senior  bishop  of  the  Methodist 
Episcopal  Church  rested  from  his  labours. 

His  death  was,  as  might  have  been  expected,  calm  and 
peaceful.  One  asked  him,  when  the  symptoms  indicated 
the  near  approach  of  the  last  struggle,  if  he  had  any 
anxiety  about  the  matter.  He  said,  "No.  There  are 
some  temporal  affairs  I  would  like  to  see  adjusted ;  but  I 
have  no  fears.  I  think  I  have  an  assurance,  should  I  die, 
that  I  shall  be  at  rest."  He  then  added,  with  much  ear- 
nestness, "  But  I  have  no  plea  or  righteousness  of  my  own. 
I  feel  that  I  am  an  unprofitable  servant,  but  I  die  firmly  in 
the  belief  of  those  doctrines  I  have  been  preaching  for 
more  than  forty  years."  There  was  no  outburst  of  ecstatic 
joy,  but  a  holy  resignation,  an  undoubting  trust,  and  an 
unwavering  reliance  upon  the  atoning  blood  of  Christ ;  and 
with  the  same  heavenly  expression  upon  his  countenance 
with  which  it  was  wont  to  be  lighted  up  when  he  poured 
forth  the  gushing  emotions  of  his  soul  in  proclaiming  the 
gospel  message,  he  met  the  last  enemy ;  and,  in  the  lan- 
guage of  a  favourite  hymn, 

"  Dying,  found  his  latest  foe 
Under  his  feet  at  last." 

"  It  has  been  my  lot,"  says  one  who  had  the  privilege 
of  being  present,  "  to  witness  many  death-bed  scenes,  but 


ROBERT    R.     ROBERTS.  157 

before,  NONE  LIKE  THIS.  We  did  not  feel  that  we  were 
standing  by  the  bed  of  death,  but  that  we  were  the  hon- 
oured witnesses  of  the  exaltation  of  our  beloved  bishop  to 
the  joy  of  his  Lord." 

His  body  was  deposited  in  a  lonely  field  on  his  own 
farm;  but  the  voice  of  the  Church  in  which  he  had  been  a 
preacher  of  righteousness  for  forty-one  years,  and  twenty- 
seven  a  bishop,  was  loud  in  expressions  of  dissatisfaction 
with  the  spot  chosen  for  his  last  resting-place.  The  people 
of  Baltimore  were  desirous  that  his  remains  should  be 
removed  with  the  ashes  of  Asbury,  which  rest  under  the 
pulpit  of  one  of  the  churches  in  that  city.  Cincinnati  and 
several  other  towns  and  villages  at  the  West,  preferred 
their  claims  for  the  same  honour,  but  it  was  finally  agreed 
that  the  body  should  be  disinterred  and  removed  to  the 
cemetery  of  the  institution  he  so  much  loved — the  Asbury 
University.  This  was  done  in  accordance  with  the  unani- 
mous request  of  the  Indiana  Conference,  as  expressed  in 
some  touching  resolutions  adopted  by  those  who  felt  most 
keenly  that  in  his  departure  they  had  been  bereaved  of  a 
friend  and  a  father. 

There,  on  a  beautiful  spot,  within  the  enclosure  of  the 
college-grounds,  with  a  chaste  monument,  bearing  an  epi- 
taph from  the  pen  of  one  of  his  colleagues  in  the  episco- 
pacy, his  body  awaits  the  summons  of  the  last  trumpet. 

As  the  reader  will  have  gathered  from  this  brief  sketch, 
the  two  most  distinguishing  traits  in  the  character  of 
Bishop  Roberts  were  modesty  and  fidelity ;  the  one  border- 
ing at  times  upon  diffidence,  the  other  always  and  every- 
where unswerving.  Perhaps  no  man  was  so  much  sur- 
prised as  himself  when  he  was  first  spoken  of  for  the  epis- 
copal office ;  and  no  one  in  our  own  Church,  or  in  any 


ROBERT    R.     ROBERTS. 

other,  has  worn  the  dignity  with  more  unassuming  meek- 
ness. To  the  General  Conference  of  1836  he  offered,  in 
all  sincerity,  the  surrender  of  his  episcopal  prerogatives ; 
not  because  of  weariness  in  the  arduous  toils  they  imposed 
upon  him,  nor  on  account  of  bodily  infirmity,  but  because 
he  deemed  so  many  of  his  brethren  in  the  eldership  of  the 
Church  better  qualified  than  himself  for  the  duties  of  the 
office.  That  body  promptly  and  wisely  declined  to  accept 
his  resignation.  They  assumed  the  right  of  differing  from 
him  in  opinion  on  that  subject,  and  he  never  stood  higher 
in  the  affection  and  esteem  of  his  brethren  in  the  ministry 
and  of  the  entire  Church  than  on  that  day.  While  he  was 
thus  practically  illustrating  the  admonition  of  the  apostle, 
"  In  honour  preferring  one  another,"  in  him  was  also  veri- 
fied the  Saviour's  declaration,  "  He  that  humbleth  himself 
shall  be  exalted."  It  is  the  testimony  of  one  who  was 
afterward  called  to  the  same  office,  "In  him  the  bishop 
did  not  spoil  the  man  nor  mar  the  Christian,  nor  by  exalt- 
ing minify  the  minister.  The  apostle  did  not  hinder  the 
disciple.  If  primus  inter  pares,  he  did  not  forget  the  fact 
that  his  peers  placed  him  first,  and  that,  through  them,  the 
Holy  Ghost  had  made  him  overseer." 

But  his  faithfulness  in  the  discharge  of  every  duty,  his 
fidelity  to  the  best  interests  of  the  Church,  to  those  over 
whom  his  episcopal  supervision  extended,  and  to  his  God, 
was  the  crowning  glory  of  his  life,  and  the  trait  of  character 
which  all  may  imitate,  in  whatever  portion  of  the  vineyard 
the  Master  may  see  fit  to  employ  them.  All  the  energies 
of  his  soul  and  body  were  consecrated  to  the  service  of  the 
Church,  and  he  has  received  that  plaudit  which  may  be 
thine  also,  reader,  whether  thou  hast  ten  talents  or  but 
one:  "Well  done,  good  and  faithful  servant." 


Qiomme 


£*&"$'•>  IfiJtilDfAlBI  iBB&lDjEMKf  © ,  ID-ID) , 


(Elijalj 


LATE    SENIOR    BISHOP    OF    THE    METHODIST    EPISCOPAL    CHURCH. 


IN  this  brief  pen-and-ink  portrait  of  the  late  Bishop  Hed- 
ding,  we  shall  not  attempt  to  give  the  likeness  of  the  man, 
drawn  from  opinion.  Our  purpose  is  to  sketch  what  he 
was  in  a  few  selected  facts  from  his  history.  If  we  suc- 
ceed in  this  purpose,  he  will  furnish  us  an  instance  of  the 
influence  of  piety  and  industry,  united  with  sound  common- 
sense,  in  giving  a  noble  character,  a  distinguished  position, 
and  eminent  usefulness  to  their  subject.  We  shall  find 
him  rising  from  an  humble  origin,  without  artificial  aid, 
and  with  many  disabilities  in  the  way  of  success,  by  the 
force  of  his  own  worth,  through  the  grace  of  God,  from  the 
retired  condition  of  a  Green  Mountain  farm-boy,  to  sit,  in 
the  honour  of  the  Episcopal  office,  among  the  princes  of 
Israel ;  and  with  a  name  in  the  Church,  the  mention  of 
which  is  "  as  ointment  poured  forth." 

What  were  his  qualifications  to  become  a  minister? 
How  did  they  fit  him  for  the  demand  of  his  times  ?  These 
are  the  two  questions  naturally  first  presented,  and  which 
we  shall  first  attempt  to  answer.  "We  shall  then  be  at  no 
loss  to  determine  why  "  God  counted  him  worthy,  putting 
him  into  the  ministry."  It  will  be  necessary,  in  this 
attempt,  to  give  a  little  attention  to  his  early  life. 


162  ELIJAH     HEDDING. 

call  upon  young  Hedding,  who  was  a  good  reader,  to  read 
one  of  Wesley's  sermons,  or  a  selection  from  Baxter's  Call. 
By  this  means  he  became  quite  intimate  with  this  Zacha- 
riah  and  Elizabeth.  These  public  readings  had  a  good 
influence  upon  him.  They  served  to  continue  in  his  mind 
his  early  impressions  of  religious  things;  they  gave  him 
confidence  to  appear  in  public ;  and,  as  he  says,  "  I  took 
great  pride  in  these  readings ;"  they  probably  were  a 
school  in  elocution  that  improved  his  style  of  address  for 
after  life.  The  pious  woman  of  this  house  showed  an  in- 
terest in  young  Hedding  that  led  her,  on  many  occasions, 
to  seek  his  conversion.  After  he  had  finished  reading,  and 
the  people  had  left  the  house,  she  would  often  detain  him, 
and  converse  with  him  about  what  he  had  been  reading,  or 
immediately  about  the  concerns  of  his  soul. 

He  derived  another,  and  no  inconsiderable  advantage 
from  his  intimacy  with  this  elect  family.  Books,  es- 
pecially religious  books,  were  very  scarce  in  that  new 
country,  and  they  had  brought  with  them  quite  a  large 
library,  embracing  about  all  the  books  then  published  by 
the  Methodists,  both  in  England  and  America.  To  this 
library  he  had  free  access,  and  he  borrowed  and  read,  until 
he  became  familiar  with  all  the  writings  on  Wesley  an  the- 
ology or  Christian  experience.  Who  shall  say  that  his  love 
of  reading  in  subsequent  life,  and  his  future  eminence  as  a 
clear  vindicator  of  the  doctrines  of  his  Church,  had  not 
their  origin  in  his  habits  of  study  of  the  books  borrowed 
from  this  lone  Methodist  family  ? 

For  nearly  three  years  the  Sabbath  services  were  con- 
tinued in  the  manner  we  have  described,  when  the  Method- 
ist itinerants,  ever  seeking  "  the  regions  beyond,"  first  made 
their  appearance  in  that  part  of  Yermont  lying  between 


ELIJAH    BEDDING.  163 

the  Green  Mountains  and  Lake  Cliamplain,  and  formed  the 
Vergennes  Circuit.  Once  in  six  weeks  they  visited  Starks- 
boro',  and  preached  on  Sabbath  in  the  log-house  of  the  pious 
family  to  which  we  have  referred.  Heading  and  prayer  were 
continued  on  the  intervening  Sabbaths  as  formerly.  The 
labours  of  the  circuit  preachers  were  followed  by  the  con- 
version of  hundreds.  To  this  time  young  Hedding  had  suc- 
cessfully resisted  the  frequent  deep  convictions  that  he  felt 
while  reading  the  books  he  had  borrowed,  or  under  the  per- 
sonal exhortations  of  the  truly  religious  woman  of  whom  we 
have  written;  but  he  could  resist  no  longer.  One  Sabbath, 
after  he  had  read  in  public  as  usual,  and  she  had  endeav- 
oured privately  to  impress  the  truths  he  had  read  upon  his 
mind,  while  on  his  way  homeward  he  turned  into  a  wood 
by  the  roadside,  and,  kneeling  beside  a  great  tree,  vowed 
to  God  to  part  with  all  his  idols,  and  seek  the  salvation  of 
his  soul  with  all  his  heart.  Soon  after  this,  while  listening 
to  a  sermon  from  Mr.  Mitchell,  the  circuit  preacher,  he 
was,  to  use  his  own  language,  "  so  affected  with  a  sense  of 
his  sinfulness  of  heart  and  life  he  could  not  help  roaring 
aloud."  In  much  this  state  of  mind  he  continued  for  six 
weeks.  He  then  heard  Mr.  Mitchell  again,  and  remained 
after  preaching  to  class.  "  While  in  this  meeting,"  he  says, 
"  and  while  the  friends  were  engaged  in  prayer  for  me,  I 
found  peace  of  soul,  and  my  conscience  was  at  rest.  It  was 
the  27th  of  December,  1798,  and  I  immediately  gave  my 
name  as  a  probationer  in  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church. 
At  the  next  visit  of  Mr.  Mitchell  to  the  place,  while  in  con- 
versation with  him  respecting  the  witness  of  the  Spirit,  the 
light  of  the  Spirit  broke  in  upon  my  mind,  clear  and  per- 
ceptible as  the  light  of  the  sun  when  it  comes  from  behind 
a  cloud,  testifying  that  I  was  born  of  God,  and  that  it  was 


164  ELIJAH     HEDDING. 

at  the  time  I  have  before  named."  So  unequivocal  and 
marked  were  his  convictions,  his  conversion,  and  the 
testimony  of  the  Spirit  thereto.  Almost  immediately  he 
obeyed  the  irrepressible  desire  that  he  felt,  and  began  to 
speak  of  the  grace  of  God  in  him,  and  to  pray  and  exhort 
in  the  public  meetings.  In  the  summer  following  lie 
received  license  as  an  exhorter,  and  soon  after,  at  the  earn- 
est solicitation  of  the  preachers,  went,  in  the  capacity  of  an 
exhorter,  for  a  few  months  to  fill  a  vacancy  that  had  oc- 
curred in  Essex  Circuit,  on  the  western  side  of  the  lake. 
His  labours  in  these  three  months  were  attended  with 
great  success,  and  some  hundreds  professed  conversion. 
Having  filled  the  time  of  his  engagement,  he  returned 
home  to  his  former  occupation  on  the  farm. 

From  the  time  of  his  conversion,  Mr.  Hedding  often  had 
serious  impressions  that  it  would  be  his  duty  to  preach  the 
gospel.  The  preachers  frequently  told  him  it  was  his  duty, 
and  once,  at  a  quarterly  conference,  a  license  to  preach  was 
offered  him ;  but  he  uniformly  replied  that  he  was  not  satis- 
fied that  God  had  called  him,  and  he  would  not  run  before 
he  was  sent.  His  views  of  the  great  responsibilities  of  the 
minister's  calling,  and  the  necessity  for  eminent  qualifica- 
tions, as  well  as  a  special  appointment  from  God  himself 
for  the  work,  and,  withal,  his  views  of  personal  unfitness, 
made  him  unwilling  to  believe  it  his  duty  whenever  the 
subject  was  presented  to  his  mind.  Still  he  could  not 
divest  his  mind  of  the  impression  that  he  ought  to  preach, 
and  waited  for  God  to  make  it  known  to  him  in  such  a 
manner  that  he  could  not  doubt.  He  did  not  wait  long. 
On  one  occasion,  while  at  work  in  the  barn,  and  thinking 
of  an  appointment  he  had,  as  an  exhorter,  on  the  following 
day,  the  conviction  that  he  ought  to  preach  at  that  meet- 


ELIJAH    HEDDING.  165 

ing,  and  the  text  that  he  should  use,  and  the  manner  in 
which  he  should  preach,  was  so  clearly  impressed  on  his 
mind  that  he  durst  not  refuse.  He  obeyed  the  instructions 
with  such  comfort  to  his  own  mind,  and  such  indications 
from  God  that  it  was  approved  of  the  Spirit,  that  from  that 
time  he  never  doubted  that  he  was  called  of  God  to  the 
work  of  the  ministry. 

In  the  spring  of  1800  he  received  license  to  preach,  and 
in  November  following  left  his  home  to  begin  the  work  of 
a  Methodist  itinerant.  He  laboured  by  the  appointment 
of  a  presiding  elder  till  the  ensuing  spring,  when  he  gave 
his  name,  and  was  admitted  on  probation  in  the  New-York 
Conference,  holding  its  session  in  John-street  Church,  in 
New-York  city,  the  16th  of  June,  1801. 

A  little  attention  to  the  incidents  of  his  life  already  men- 
tioned cannot  fail  to  present  him  as  one  whom  the  Head  of 
the  Church  would  be  likely  to  count  worthy  of  the  sacred 
office,  and  to  exhibit  something  of  his  fitness  for  that  office 
in  reference  to  the  times  in  which  he  lived.  The  doubt 
that  then  prevailed  in  the  New-England  mind,  respecting 
a  clear  religious  experience  as  the  privilege  of  Christians, 
required  that  the  minister,  to  be  fully  prepared  for  his 
work,  should  have  a  personal  acquaintance  with  the 
operations  of  grace  on  his  own  heart,  and  be  able  to 
speak  confidently  "the  things  that  he  knew."  We  have 
seen  how  he  was  qualified  to  meet  this  prevailing  doubt, 
and  to  "testify  to  things  he  had  seen,"  from  the  man- 
ner that  the  Spirit  of  God  affected  his  heart  in  child- 
hood, and  subsequently  deeply  convinced  him  of  sin,  and 
then  genuinely  effected  his  conversion,  and  clearly  testi- 
fied to  his  acceptance  in  the  Beloved.  Deism,  Univer- 
salism,  and  Calvinism  were  the  common  forms  of  error 


J(jtf  ELIJAH     HEDDING. 

that  then  impregnated  the  public  mind.  The  Methodist 
minister,  in  addition  to  his  knowledge  of  the  Bible,  needed 
to  have  some  acquaintance  with  the  writings  that  clearly 
met  and  exposed  the  errors  of  these  different  isms.  We 
have  seen  how  Providence  equipped  Hedding,  even  before 
his  conversion,  with  a  good  panoply  from  the  library  of 
the  pious  family  of  his  neighbourhood.  At  almost  every 
appointment  the  itinerant  was  met  by  formidable  oppo- 
nents, prepared  for  public  cavil  or  debate.  It  was  well 
for  the  young  minister  of  the  circuit  to  be  accustomed  to 
appearing  before  an  audience,  and  to  be  familiar  with 
public  address.  Let  us  not  overlook  the  influence  on 
young  Hedding  in  this  respect  from  the  three  years'  read- 
ing on  Sabbath-days  to  the  company  gathered  in  the  log- 
cabin  in  Starksboro'.  The  long  and  severe  rides,  and  the 
physical  hardships  and  privations  of  itinerant  life  required 
that  the  Methodist  ministers  should  be  "giants  in  those 
days,"  or  the  brief  service  of  a  few  years  would  prostrate 
and  lay  aside  the  most  ardent  herald  of  the  truth.  Mr. 
Hedding,  reared  in  the  hill  country,  nerved  by  the  moun- 
tain breeze,  and  hardened  by  the  toils  of  the  farm,  pos- 
sessed a  constitution,  physically  developed,  that  prepared 
him  for  herculean  labour  and  unsurpassed  endurance.  It 
was  not  the  least  of  his  trials,  while,  with  a  glowing  zeal, 
he  sought  the  wandering  sheep  upon  the  mountains  or  in 
the  valleys,  and  with  scarcely  the  form  of  pecuniary  recom- 
pense, that  he  was  continually  accused  as  a  hireling,  and 
called  an  intruder  in  other  men's  folds.  But  such  slanders 
were  powerless  in  deterring  him  from  obedience  to  the  call 
of  duty,  when  he  heard  continually  sounding  in  his  ears,  as 
first  he  heard  it  in  his  barn,  "  Go  ye  into  all  the  world  and 
preach  the  gospel  to  every  creature"  "With  such  qualifica- 


ELIJAH     HEDDING.  167 

tions  for  his  work,  and  with  a  strong  discriminating  mind, 
a  quick  and  clear  perception  of  men  and  things,  and  a 
quenchless  love  for  the  souls  of  men  and  the  glory  of  God, 
he  gave  himself  to  be,  for  life,  an  itinerant  minister. 

He  spent  the  first  six  years  of  his  ministry  on  Platts- 
burgh,  Fletcher,  Bridgewater,  Hanover,  Barre,  and  Yer- 
shire  Circuits.  These  circuits  covered  each  a  large  extent 
of  territory,  embracing  from  ten  to  fifteen  townships,  and 
required  to  be  traversed  at  least  once  in  four  weeks,  and 
some  of  them  as  often  as  once  in  two  weeks.  As  Method- 
ism was  generally  new  and  pioneer  in  its  mission,  he  had 
frequently  to  introduce  himself  and  his  ministry  in  towns 
where  the  itinerant's  voice  had  never  been  heard.  During 
these  six  years  he  travelled  usually  not  less  than  one  hun- 
dred miles  a  week,  and  preached  one  or  two  sermons  each 
week-day,  and  three  sermons  on  the  Sabbath. 

An  instance  of  his  resolution  to  overcome  difficulties,  and 
his  perseverance  in  prosecuting  his  work  and  meeting  his 
engagements,  occurred  while  he  was  on  Fletcher  Circuit. 
As  the  winter  approached,  and  the  country  became  very 
muddy,  in  some  places  frozen  and  in  others  not,  his  horse 
became  lame  and  unable  to  proceed,  except  at  the  risk  of 
his  life,  and  to  the  injury  of  the  beast.  Unable  to  procure 
another  horse,  and  unwilling  to  fail  in  his  appointments, 
he  went  round  the  north  part  of  the  circuit,  a  distance  of 
one  hundred  and  fifty  miles,  on  foot,  in  two  weeks,  preach- 
ing once  or  twice  daily,  and  with  his  feet  wet  most  of  the 
time,  and  his  boots  torn  by  the  ice  and  frozen  mud  in  the 
roads  and  swamps.  He  often  spoke  of  this  pedestrian  en- 
terprise in  later  years  of  his  life.  "  I  lived  through  it," 
said  he,  "but  the  exposures  and  hardships  I  endured  I 
have  never  recovered  from  to  this  day." 


168  ELIJAH     HEDDING. 

The  year  that  he  travelled  Bridge-water  Circuit  was  one 
of  the  severest  of  his  ministerial  life.  The  circuit  embraced 
thirteen  townships,  and  he  preached  in  each  at  least  once 
in  two  weeks.  He  had  hardly  passed  round  the  circuit, 
before  there  appeared  indications  of  a  powerful  revival.  So 
deeply  were  the  people  interested,  that  soon  he  was  often 
driven  to  the  barns  and  groves,  that  they  might  be  accom- 
modated. So  absorbed  were  they  to  hear  the  word,  that 
the  scattered  population  would  collect,  even  in  harvest 
time,  on  horseback  or  on  foot,  for  ten  and  fifteen  miles 
around.  At  this  time,  when,  as  he  once  described  it, 
"There  was  the  greatest  prospect  of  a  sweeping  revival 
that  I  have  ever  known,"  and  when  his  own  heart  beat 
high  with  hopes  for  the  success  of  the  word,  he  was  stricken 
down  with  disease.  His  first  attack  was  dysentery  in  a 
malignant  form,  and  so  severe  that  most  of  his  friends 
concluded  that  he  must  die.  The  good  man  of  the  house 
where  he  lay  sick,  without  his  knowledge,  went  thirty 
miles  for  the  Presiding  Elder  to  come  and  attend  his 
funeral.  But  the  disease  took  a  favourable  turn,  and  he 
had  nearly  recovered,  when  he  was  smitten  down  again 
with  rheumatism.  The  complaint  was  very  violent,  and 
for  six  weeks  he  could  not  turn  himself  in  bed,  and  most 
of  that  time  could  not  stir  hand  or  foot.  It  was  four 
months  before  he  could  walk  across  his  room.  The  effects 
of  this  disease  remained  with  him ;  and  for  nearly  fifty 
years  the  rheumatic  pains  were  constantly  reminding  him 
of  the  long  and  painful  hours  he  then  suffered.  To  increase 
his  affliction,  the  enemies  of  religion  took  opportunity, 
during  his  sickness,  by  slander  and  opposition,  effectually 
to  stop  the  work  of  God  that  had  so  prosperously  begun. 

Bishop  Hedding  was  a  master  in  the  English  language. 


ELIJAH     HEDDING.  169 

He  was  noted  for  the  correctness  of  his  pronunciation,  the  ex- 
actness of  his  definitions,  and  the  integrity  of  his  sentences. 
He  always  gave  preference  to  pure  Anglo-Saxon  words.  His 
thorough  knowledge  of  his  mother-tongue  doubtless  con- 
tributed greatly  to  his  reputation  as  a  preacher,  or  as  an 
expounder  of  the  law  and  discipline  of  the  Church.  He 
laid  the  foundation  of  this  knowledge  while  he  travelled 
Hanover  Circuit.  When  a  boy  at  school,  he  had  been  put 
to  the  study  of  English  grammar,  and  compelled  to  commit 
to  memory  certain  lessons ;  but  he  says,  "I  understood  noth- 
ing of  the  system,  and  felt  the  inconvenience  of  my  ignorance 
very  seriously  for  the  first  three  years  that  I  travelled,  and  I 
determined  if  possible  to  overcome  it.  Having  no  one  to 
teach  me,  and  being  unable  to  remain  in  the  same  neigh- 
bourhood more  than  two  or  three  days  at  a  time,  I  bought 
a  copy  of  all  the  different  books  on  grammar  that  I  could 
find,  and  went  into  the  study  of  it  thoroughly."  For  three 
months  he  made  no  new  sermons,  but  preached  his  old 
ones,  and  omitted  all  other  reading.  He  carried  his  books 
on  grammar  in  his  saddle-bags;  and  early  and  late,  at 
every  opportunity,  he  gave  his  chief  attention  to  their 
study,  until,  at  the  end  of  that  time,  he  came  to  understand 
the  whole  system. 

No  sooner  had  he  finished  the  grammar,  than  he  began 
and  read  through,  in  course,  and  studied  carefully,  Perry's 
Dictionary.  This  dictionary  was,  at  the  time,  the  standard 
of  pronunciation  and  definition  in  most  of  the  colleges  and 
schools.  As  he  read  it  through  in  order  to  correct  any 
errors  in  pronunciation,  or  in  the  application  of  words  to 
which  he  was  accustomed,  he  marked  such  words,  wrote 
them  off,  and  committed  them  to  memory.  He  did  the 
same  thing  with  Perry's  list  of  Scripture  names ;  and  he 


ELIJAH     WEDDING. 

says,  "I  found  it  very  beneficial."  A  few  years  later,  when 
Walker's  Dictionary  came  to  be  the  standard,  he  did  the 
same  with  it,  noting  wherein  they  differed.  Still  later,  he 
applied  the  same  study  to  Webster's.  As  the  result  of  this 
application,  he  could  tell  at  once  how  any  word  was  spelled 
and  pronounced,  and  the  nice  shades  of  definition  given  to 
it  by  either  Perry,  Walker,  or  Webster. 

We  cannot  refrain  from  narrating  a  novel  and  prompt 
way  in  which  he  settled  a  dispute  between  two  members 
of  the  Church  while  he  travelled  Barre  Circuit.  In  one  of 
the  societies  on  this  circuit  there  were  two  brothers  who  had 
married  sisters,  and  who  were  related  to  a  majority  of  the 
members  in  the  society.  A  dispute  had  arisen  between 
them  respecting  some  property,  creating  much  bitterness 
of  feeling,  not  only  between  themselves  but  other  members 
of  the  Church.  He  determined,  if  possible,  to  effect  a 
reconciliation  and  settlement,  and  to  restore  peace.  For 
this  purpose  he  called  the  society,  about  thirty  or  forty  in 
number,  together.  Seated  between  these  men,  and  the 
wife  of  each  beside  her  husband,  he  began  to  talk  over 
with  them  the  matter  in  dispute.  Soon  one  of  the  men 
charged  the  other  with  a  lie.  Immediately  they  both 
sprung  to  their  feet  to  fight,  and  the  women  and  many 
others  present  began  to  scream*  Mr.  Hedding,  rising  at 
the  same  time  from  his  seat,  with  each  hand  seized  a  man 
by  the  collar,  and,  being  stronger  than  either,  held  them 
apart.  He  then  began  to  lecture  them  on  the  wickedness 
of  their  purposes,  reminding  them  that  they  were  kindred, 
and  members  of  the  same  Church,  and  what  a  reproach 
they  were  bringing  upon  themselves  and  the  Church,  and 
how  they  were  sinning  against  God.  After  he  had  some- 
what calmed  their  feelings  by  his  lecture  and  exhortation, 


ELIJAH    HEDDING.  171 

kneeling  down,  and  pulling  them  on  their  knees  beside  him, 
and  still  holding  each  by  the  collar  of  his  coat,  he  prayed 
earnestly  and  fervently  for  them.  When  he  had  finished 
praying,  he  moved  the  man  he  held  in  his  right  hand  and 
said  to  him,  "Now  you  pray."  The  man  obeyed,  and,  con- 
fessing his  sin,  and  asking  God  and  his  brother  to  forgive 
him,  poured  out  his  soul  in  supplication  and  tears.  Mr. 
Hedding,  moving  the  man  he  held  in  his  left  hand,  then 
said  to  him,  "  And  now  you  pray."  He  too,  with  crying 
and  full  confession  of  guilt,  also  asked  God  and  his  brother 
to  forgive  him.  They  then  rose  up,  and  Mr.  Hedding  said, 
"  Now  shake  hands,  and  love  one  another  as  brethren,  and 
let  us  hear  no  more  of  this  difficulty  as  long  as  you  live." 
They  embraced  each  other  and  made  mutual  pledges  of 
affection  and  faithfulness,  and  the  whole  society  imitated 
their  example.  This  peremptory  and  new  method  of  settle- 
ment proved  effectual,  and  these  men  lived  for  some  years 
after,  and  died  on  terms  of  fraternal  and  Christian  fellow- 
ship. 

The  General  Conference  of  1804  so  altered  the  boundary 
line  between  the  New-York  and  New-England  Conferences 
that  Mr.  Hedding  became  a  member  of  the  latter  Confer- 
ence. He  continued  a  member  of  that  body  until  the  time 
of  his  election  to  the  episcopacy,  in  1824.  During  all  these 
years  he  filled,  with  distinguished  usefulness  and  accept- 
ance, either  the  appointments  of  presiding  elder  or  stationed 
preacher.  In  1807  and  1808  he  was  in  charge  of  the  New- 
Hampshire  District.  Here  he  had  long  rides,  much  work, 
and  poor  pecuniary  support.  The  newness  and  rugged- 
ness  of  the  country,  the  want  of  financial  organization  on 
the  circuits,  and  the  poverty  of  the  people,  made  it  one  of 
the  hardest  districts  in  the  Methodist  connexion.  The  first 


ELIJAH    HEDDING. 

year  he  received  for  his  services,  besides  a  small  amount 
for  travelling  expenses,  four  dollars  and  twenty-jive  cents! 
"With  this  he  was  expected  to  find  his  own  horse,  cloth- 
ing, and  books,  and  to  travel  not  less  than  three  thousand 
miles,  and  preach  not  less  than  three  hundred  sermons! 
Yet  such  was  his  zeal  in  the  cause  of  his  God,  and  his 
readiness  to  give  himself  to  advance  it,  that,  without  a 
murmur  or  complaint,  and  with  great  cheerfulness,  he 
took  the  same  district,  and  with  the  same  prospect,  for 
the  following  year. 

Mr.  Hedding  held  a  very  sacred  place  in  the  affections 
and  confidence  of  his  brethren ;  yet  truth  requires  us  to 
say  that  once,  though  only  once,  he  was  the  subject  of  a 
formal  complaint,  made  against  him  at  the  Conference. 
The  charge  was  of  so  grave  a  character  as  to  deserve  a  pass- 
ing notice.  On  one  of  the  circuits  of  the  New-Hampshire 
District  there  resided  a  doctor  of  medicine,  a  man  of  much 
shrewdness  and  talent,  and  a  member  of  the  Church.  He 
came  to  Mr.  Hedding  with  a  written  charge  against  one 
of  the  preachers  of  the  circuit,  requesting  that  a  council 
might  be  called  to  try  him.  The  charge  was  superfluity 
of  apparel.  The  specifications  were,  first,  the  preacher 
wore  silver  knee-buckles  in  his  small  clothes ;  second,  the 
preacher  allowed  his  wife  to  wear  a  mourning  veil,  on  ac- 
count of  the  death  of  some  relative.  The  doctor  alleged 
that  these  were  great  grievances  to  himself  and  wife  and 
other  members  of  the  society.  Mr.  Hedding  told  him  that 
these  were  small  matters,  and  all  he  could  do  would  be  to 
advise  the  preacher,  for  peace'  sake,  to  leave  off  the  buckles 
and  use  strings,  and  the  wife,  for  the  same  reason,  to  leave 
off  the  veil.  Having  done  this,  he  supposed  it  would  be 
the  end  of  the  matter ;  but  when  he  arrived  at  the  follow- 


ELIJAH    HEDDINQ.  173 

ing  Conference  lie  found  the  doctor  had  forwarded  a  bill 
of  charges  against  him,  signed  by  himself  and  wife,  for  re- 
fusing to  administer  discipline.  The  doctor's  letter  was 
read  to  the  Conference,  and  they,  without  debate,  voted  to 
dismiss  it  as  unworthy  of  notice.  This  was  the  first  and 
last  complaint  ever  made  against  him  at  Conference. 

On  the  10th  of  June,  1810,  he  was  married  to  Miss 
Lucy  Blish,  of  Gibsum,  New-Hampshire.  He  became 
acquainted  with  her  when  he  travelled  the  Plattsburgh 
Circuit,  in  1801,  and  they  corresponded  occasionally  to  the 
time  of  their  marriage.  Their  long  life  of  happiness  and 
prosperity  in  the  married  relation  is  a  sufficient  evidence 
of  the  wisdom  of  his  choice. 

Some  estimate  can  be  formed  of  the  position  of  Mr. 
TIedding  in  his  own  Conference,  by  the  votes  given  him 
for  a  delegate  to  the  General  Conference  in  1812.  He, 
with  one  other,  Rev.  George  Pickering,  received  every 
vote  but  one  that  was  given.  When  the  tellers  announced 
the  result  of  the  balloting,  Mr.  Asbury,  with  characteristic 
good  humour,  remarked,  "  It  is  well  these  brethren  lacked 
one  vote,  or  we  should  know  they  voted  for  themselves." 
This  was  not  the  only  expression  of  their  exalted  opinion 
of  his  merits  given  by  the  Conference.  At  every  subse- 
quent election  of  delegates,  to  the  time  when  he  was 
elected  bishop,  he  in  no  instance  lacked  more  than  two 
votes  of  the  whole  number  given. 

Mr.  Hedding  was  always  ready  to  show  his  sympathy 
for,  and  to  give  his  counsel  and  influence  to  promote,  the 
temporal  welfare  of  the  Churches  under  his  care.  He 
showed  his  zeal  and  ability  in  this  respect  by  his  suc- 
cessful efforts  to  remove  the  financial  embarrassments  of 
the  Churches  in  Boston  in  1815.  Both  the  Churches  in 


174  ELIJAH     HEDDING. 

that  city  were  held  by  one  board  of  trustees,  and  were 
over  eighteen  thousand  dollars  in  debt.  The  mortgages 
by  which  this  debt  was  secured  were  already  due,  and  the 
payment  was  demanded.  The  members  of  the  Church 
were  generally  poor,  and  were  in  great  distress  and  con- 
sternation, expecting  every  day  that  their  houses  of 
worship  would  be  taken  from  them.  Mr.  Hedding  and 
his  colleague,  Rev.  D.  Fillmore,  turned  on  every  side  for 
relief,  but  apparently  in  vain.  In  this  crisis  of  their 
affairs  he  applied  for  aid  to  a  noble-hearted  member,  and 
the  only  one  of  much  property  in  the  Church.  This  man, 
who  was  largely  engaged  in  business,  offered,  if  Mr.  Hed- 
ding and  his  colleague  would  find  purchasers  for  the  pews 
yet  remaining  unsold  in  the  churches,  to  the  amount  of  the 
debt,  that  he  would  take  the  notes  of  the  purchasers,  pay- 
able in  such  labour  or  merchandise  as  each  could  best  pay, 
and  he  would  himself  advance  the  money  to  pay  the  mort- 
gages. Doubtful  of  success,  and  yet  determined  to  do  all 
in  their  power  in  so  difficult  a  work,  these  two  men  began 
the  task,  and  unremittingly,  from  morning  till  evening, 
they  traversed  the  city  for  some  months,  calling,  not  only 
on  their  own  members,  but  on  members  of  other  Churches, 
as  well  as  on  those  not  members  of  any  Church.  To  their 
great  joy  and  surprise  they  succeeded.  A  day  was 
appointed  for  the  people  to  come  and  bid  for  the  choice 
of  pews  and  give  their  notes.  The  noble  man  who  made 
the  magnanimous  offer,  gave  his  check  for  the  amount,  the 
debt  was  cancelled,  and  the  anxious  Church  had  a  day  of 
thanksgiving  and  rejoicing. 

Although  he  did  not  consider  it  a  virtue  to  wear  a  dress 
of  canonical  shape,  and  had  no  sympathy  for  such  a 
spirit  of  Pharisaism,  Mr.  Hedding  always  advocated  and 


ELIJAH    REDDING.  175 

admired  simplicity  and  plainness  of  dress;  and  he  con- 
tended that  members  of  the  Methodist  Church,  whatever 
their  standing  in  society,  ought  to  be  so  attired.  Perhaps 
we  cannot  better  give  his  views  on  this  subject  than  by 
relating  in  his  own  words,  from  memory,  an  incident  that 
occurred  while  he  was  stationed  in  Boston : — "  A  lady 
called  on  me  one  Monday  morning  in  Boston,  and  said  she 
came  to  offer  herself  to  join  my  Church.  She  was  very 
gayly  and  expensively  dressed.  On  inquiry,  I  learned 
that  she  was  the  wife  of  a  wealthy  merchant  in  the  city, 
and  niece  of  Ex-Governor  Hancock;  that  she  had  been  led 
to  seek  the  Lord  from  reading  Wesley's  sermons,  which  she 
found  in  her  kitchen,  and  which  belonged  to  a  domestic 
who  was  a  member  of  our  Church.  She  had  been  the 
day  before  to  hear  me  preach,  as  she  said,  to  see  if  I 
preached  as  Wesley  preached ;  and,  being  satisfied  that  I 
did,  she  wished  to  be  one  of  his  people.  I  told  her  there 
would  be  an  opportunity  to  join  the  Church  on  the  follow- 
ing Sabbath,  but  that  she  ought  to  know  well  the  char- 
acter and  manners  of  the  people  before  she  joined.  'I 
perceive,'  said  I,  '  that  you  are  very  gayly  dressed,  and  our 
people  are  a  plain  people;  moreover,  our  rules  require 
plainness  in  all  who  unite  with  us,  and,  if  you  were  to  con- 
tinue to  dress  as  you  now  are,  it  would  give  great  offence 
to  the  Church ;  and  you  should  consider  this.'  She  said 
she  had  read  our  Discipline,  and  made  up  her  mind  to 
conform  to  it.  On  the  following  Sabbath  she  presented 
herself  to  be  received,  attired  as  neatly  as  I  ever  wish  to 
see  any  one,  joined  the  Church,  and  lived  for  several 
years,  till  her  death,  a  devout  and  consistent  Christian." 

The  first  religious  and  family  paper,  published  under 
the  patronage  of  the  Church,  was  established  by  the  New- 


176  ELIJAH    HEDDING. 

England  Conference.  Mr.  Hedding  was  among  the  origi- 
nal movers  in  this  work,  and  was  one  of  the  committee 
appointed  by  the  Conference  in  1822  to  take  measures  for 
its  publication.  Being  the  only  one  of  the  committee 
residing  in  or  near  Boston,  the  greater  part  of  the  labour 
devolved  upon  him.  "With  characteristic  zeal  and  pru- 
dence he  attended  to  his  duties,  and  Zion's  Herald  soon 
made  its  appearance. 

The  General  Conference  in  1824  elected  him  a  bishop. 
The  circumstances  attending  this  election  reflected  great 
credit  on  himself,  and  the  successful  manner  in  which  for 
nearly  thirty  years  he  discharged  his  official  duties,  shows 
the  good  judgment  of  those  who  voted  to  raise  him  to  the 
office.  It  is  but  the  truth  to  say  that  the  election  of  a 
bishop  at  that  time  depended  on  a  party  vote.  Each 
General  Conference  from  1812  to  1824  was  much  agitated 
by  the  discussion  of  the  subject  popularly  known  as  "the 
Presicling-Elder  Question."  So  much  interest  was  taken 
in  this  question  that  it  divided  the  Conferences  into 
two  parties,  and  naturally  affected  the  general  elections ; 
one  party,  chiefly  from  the  South,  contending  that  the 
presiding  elders  should  be  appointed  by  the  bishops,  and 
the  other  advocating  their  election  by  their  respective 
Annual  Conferences.  Mr.  Hedding  was  of  the  latter 
party.  He  first  appeared,  with  prominence,  in  the  dis- 
cussions on  this  subject  in  1816,  and  again  in  1820.  A 
contemporary  says  of  him :  "  As  a  disputant  he  was  self- 
possessed,  clear,  candid,  and  convincing."  He  made  so 
favourable  an  impression  on  the  minds  of  his  brethren 
who  agreed  with  him  on  the  subject  in  controversy,  that, 
in  the  latter  year,  they  nominated  him  as  their  candidate 
for  election  to  the  episcopal  office.  The  state  of  parties 


ELIJAH    BEDDING.  177 

was  such  at  the  time,  that  had  he  consented  to  the  nomi- 
nation, there  is  scarcely  a  doubt  but  he  would  have  been 
elected.  Li  vain,  however,  they  urged  him  to  consent. 
He  peremptorily  declined. 

At  the  General  Conference  in  1824,  the  state  of  the 
work  requiring  the  election  of  two  bishops,  he  was  again 
put  forward  by  his  friends,  and  nominated  for  the  office. 
Although  disinclined  to  allow  his  name  to  be  used,  he  did 
not  feel  at  liberty  so  positively  to  refuse  as  he  had  done  at 
the  preceding  Conference.  He  was  elected.  The  vote  sur- 
prised him,  and,  rising  in  his  place,  with  much  embarrass- 
ment he  stated  to  the  Conference  that  he  doubted  whether 
the  state  of  his  health,  and  his  views  of  the  great  respon- 
sibilities of  the  office,  and  his  sense  of  personal  unfitness, 
would  allow  him  to  consent  to  be  ordained.  He  would, 
however,  take  time  to  consider  the  matter;  and  retired 
from  the  Conference.  While  walking  in  the  rear  of  the 
church  where  the  Conference  was  in  session,  meditating 
on  the  nature  of  his  position,  and  praying  for  direction  in 
the  path  of  duty,  he  received  a  message,  signed  by  the 
secretary  of  the  Conference,  that  immediately  gave  decision 
to  his  mind.  This  message  was  the  copy  of  a  resolution 
offered  by  two  prominent  Southern  men  that  he  knew  were 
leaders  on  the  opposite  side  to  himself  in  the  prevailing 
controversy,  and  passed  unanimously  by  the  Conference. 
It  expressed  their  sense  of  his  fitness  for  the  episcopal 
office,  and  also  a  request  that  he  would  consent  to  be 
ordained,  and  not  allow  any  feeling  of  unworthiness  to 
prevent  him  from  obeying  the  voice  of  the  Church.  After 
receiving  this  testimony  of  the  unanimous  wish  of  his 
brethren,  he  could  no  longer  hesitate,  and  was  ordained 
bishop  on  the  28th  of  May,  1824.  From  this  time  forward 

12 


178  ELIJAH    HEDDING. 

he  occupied  a  prominent  position  in  the  councils  of  the 
Church,  and  increased  every  year  in  the  esteem  and  affec- 
tion of  the  ministry  and  people. 

Many  years  after  his  election,  when  the  excitement  from 
ultra  doctrines  and  measures  made  him  the  subject  of 
attack,  Bishop  Hedding  was  often  charged  with  holding 
sentiments  favouring  the  system  of  American  slavery. 
But  one  of  his  official  acts  in  1826,  when  the  subject  of 
slavery  did  not  agitate  the  Church  or  country,  will  at  least 
clearly  exhibit  what  were  his  views  respecting  slaveholding 
in  the  ministry.  As  near  as  memory  serves  we  give  the 
account  of  it  in  his  own  words : — 

"  The  General  Conference  in  1824  voted  that  the  bishops 
should  appoint  a  delegate  to  the  "Wesleyan  body  in  Eng- 
land in  1826,  and  we  met  in  the  spring  of  that  year  to  make 
the  appointment.  When  we  assembled  it  was  found  that 
one  of  our  number  was  unable  to  attend.  The  four  bishops 
present  proceeded  to  nominate  the  delegate.  Two  of  them 
named  an  eminent  man  of  the  South,  who  was  known  to  be 
a  slaveholder.  The  other  two,  of  whom  I  was  one,  objected 
to  the  appointment  of  this  man  on  the  ground  of  his  per- 
sonal connexion  with  slavery,  alleging  that  it  would  em- 
barrass him  as  a  delegate  in  England,  and  would  give  a 
precedent  to  the  promotion  of  slaveholders  to  office,  and, 
at  the  same  time,  nominated  another  distinguished  minister 
who  would  be  free  from  such  objections.  The  two  bishops 
who  had  nominated  the  man  from  the  South  refused  to 
yield  their  nomination,  or  to  concur  with  ours,  because,  as 
they  contended,  slaveholding  should  not  be  a  bar  to  any 
office  in  the  appointment  of  the  Church.  In  this  state  of 
things,  neither  side  being  willing  to  yield,  and  being  equally 
divided  in  our  choice,  we  agreed  to  adjourn  till  the  follow- 


ELIJAH    HEDDING.  179 

ing  year,  when  the  absent  bishop  could  meet  with  us.  The 
next  year  we  all  met,  and  it  was  found  that  those  of  us  who 
had  been  together  the  year  before  remained  of  the  same 
mind.  The  other  bishop  was  unwilling  to  take  the  respon- 
sibility of  giving  the  casting  vote,  and  after  two  days' 
delay  decided  that  we  had  not  authority  to  make  the 
appointment  in  1827,  since  the  General  Conference  voted 
it  should  be  done  in  1826,  and  we  adjourned  without 
sending  the  delegate." 

Bishop  Hedding,  though  a  man  of  eminent  prudence, 
and  averse  to  controversy  and  dispute,  had,  nevertheless,  an 
opinion  that,  at  proper  times,  he  was  ready  to  express  on 
any  question  that  involved  the  well-being  of  the  cause  of 
Christ ;  and  he  feared  no  personal  reproach  or  opposition 
when  he  believed  it  would  be  beneficial  to  interpose  his 
judgment  and  counsel  to  arrest  the  imprudence  of  party 
zeal,  or  to  maintain  doctrines  and  measures  calculated  to 
preserve  the  integrity  of  the  Church. 

Lay  delegation  in  the  Conferences  was  a  greatly  agi- 
tated question  in  some  portions  of  the  Church  about  the 
time  of  his  election.  In  the  Pittsburgh  Conference 
many  of  the  leading  members  were  in  favour  of  such 
a  measure.  When  he  attended  its  session,  in  August, 
1826,  finding  such  intense  feeling  on  the  subject  as  to 
threaten  the  disruption  of  the  body,  he  addressed  them 
in  reference  to  the  matter,  warning  them  of  the  evil  of 
some  of  their  measures,  and  exhorting  them  to  modera- 
tion and  calmness  in  their  discussion  of  the  agitated  ques- 
tion. For  this  address  he  was  publicly  attacked  and  mis- 
represented, and,  as  the  bishop  believed,  to  the  injury 
of  his  character  and  influence,  and  to  the  hurt  of  the 
Church,  Having  sought  in  vain  for  reparation  in  the 


180  ELIJAH     HEDDING. 

same  paper  where  the  attack  and  misrepresentations  had 
been  made,  he  called  the  attention  of  the  General  Confer- 
ence to  the  subject  in  1828.  The  committee  on  episcopacy, 
to  whom  the  matter  was  referred,  after  hearing  the  state- 
ments of  the  delegates  from  the  Pittsburgh  Conference  and 
the  bishop's  own  statement  of  the  address,  as  recollected  by 
himself,  declared  that  the  writer  of  the  offensive  publica- 
tion "had  injuriously  misrepresented  Bishop  Hedding,  and 
that  the  address  of  the  bishop  was  not  only  not  deserving 
of  censure,  but  such  as  the  circumstances  of  the  case  ren- 
dered it  his  official  duty  to  deliver." 

Bishop  Hedding  was  remarkable  for  the  gentlemanly 
simplicity  of  his  manners.  He  conceived  that  the  highest 
praise  which  he  or  any  man  could  receive  was  the  testi- 
mony of  being  &  faithful,  approved,  and  successful  Method- 
ist minister.  He  shrunk  from  the  idea  of  superior  claim, 
or  making  pretension  to  superior  privileges,  because  of  his 
office.  Wherever  he  travelled  among  strangers,  though 
always  ready  to  avow  himself  a  Methodist  preacher,  he 
never  introduced  himself  as  a  bishop.  This  often  led  him, 
greatly  to  his  amusement  and  sometimes  to  his  inconveni- 
ence, to  discover  that  some  men  who  would  be  patronizing 
and  condescending  to  the  preacher,  could  be  servile  and 
humble  to  the  bishop.  We  venture  to  narrate  an  instance 
of  this  kind.  Travelling  with  a  horse  and  sulky,  on  one  of 
his  long  rides  from  Conference  to  Conference,  he  came,  on 
Saturday  afternoon,  to  a  manufacturing  village  near  the 
western  part  of  the  State  of  Massachusetts.  As  was  his 
custom  where  he  knew  no  private  member  of  the  Church 
in  the  place,  he  went  direct  to  the  stationed  preacher's,  and 
found  him  absent.  Next  he  went  to  the  public-house,  and, 
while  his  horse  was  feeding,  inquired  of  the  landlord  who 


ELIJAH    HEDDING.  181 

were  the  principal  Methodists  in  the  place.  He  was 
referred  to  one  of  the  large  manufacturers  of  the  village, 
as  the  landlord  said,  "the  richest  man  in  the  place,"  who 
lived  not  far  off  in  a  splendid  mansion.  He  walked  to 
the  house,  and  found  the  lady  of  the  "richest  man"  at 
home.  Having  introduced  himself  as  a  Methodist  preacher 
on  a  journey,  he  stated  that  he  designed  to  remain  in  the 
place  over  Sabbath ;  and,  preferring  to  stay  with  some  of 
the  brethren  than  at  a  tavern,  he  had  called  to  see  if  it 
would  be  convenient  for  them  to  accommodate  him.  She 
said,  with  common  civility,  she  would  send  to  the  factory 
for  her  husband.  He  soon  came,  and  showed,  by  his 
haughty  and  forbidding  air,  that  he  felt  he  was  the  "  chief 
man  of  the  village."  The  bishop  again  stated  his  object 
in  calling,  and,  after  sitting  some  time  without  receiving  a 
reply,  arose  to  depart,  when  the  man  said,  "I  suppose  we 
can  let  you  stay."  The  bishop  replied,  "If  it  is  convenient 
I  will ;  but  if  not,  I  would  not  be  a  burden." 
"  O,"  said  the  man,  "  I  guess  you  can  stay." 
The  bishop,  who  by  this  time  had  taken  the  measure  of 
his  host,  and  more  to  test  his  hospitality  than  save  his  pence, 
said,  "  I  have  a  horse  at  the  tavern ;  if  you  have  a  barn  and 
feed  I  will  bring  him." 

"  "We  have  hay,"  said  the  man,  "  but  no  grain." 
"  Well,"  said  the  bishop,  "  I  can  bring  grain  from  the 
tavern,  if  your  hay  is  good." 

"  It  is  good  enough  for  your  horse,"  was  the  quick  reply. 
The  man  returned  to  his  factory,  and  the  bishop  went  to 
the  tavern,  bought  the  oats,  and  brought  the  horse  and  put 
him  in  the  barn.  He  spent  the  remainder  of  the  afternoon 
and  evening  without  being  favoured  with  much  of  the 
society  of  "  mine  host "  or  his  lady.  When  he  came  to 


182  ELIJAH    HEDDING. 

retire  for  the  night  he  was  shown  to  a  small  attic-room,  in 
a  wing  of  the  splendid  mansion,  with  two  beds  in  it,  with 
three  apprentices  just  from  the  factory  for  room-mates,  and 
one  of  them  for  a  bed-fellow,  all  of  whom  seemed  to  par- 
take of  the  spirit  of  their  master,  and  treated  the  bishop  as 
unwelcome  and  an  intruder.  He  felt  ere  this  quite  inclined 
to  remove  to  the  tavern,  but  a  disposition  to  see  the  end 
prevailed,  and  he  remained.  In  the  morning  his  host  said 
to  him,  "  There  is  to  be  a  love-feast  at  the  church ;  maybe 
you  would  like  to  go." 

"  Certainly,"  said  the  bishop ;  and  they  proceeded  to  the 
church.  He  had  been  seated  but  a  few  moments  in  the  con- 
gregation when  the  preacher  came  in  and  took  his  seat  in 
the  altar.  His  host  went  and  spoke  to  him,  and  the  bishop 
perceived  that  he  was  directing  the  preacher's  attention  to 
himself.  The  preacher,  rising  up  hastily  and  opening 
wide  his  eyes,  exclaimed,  so  as  to  be  distinctly  heard  in  the 
house,  "It's  the  bishop!  It's  the  bishop /"  It  need  not 
be  stated  that  the  bishop  was  invited  to  take  charge  of  the 
love-feast,  and  preached  the  morning  sermon.  The  service 
being  over  he  left  the  house ;  and  his  host,  evidently  morti- 
fied and  chagrined,  walked  for  some  distance  by  his  side, 
when  suddenly,  with  a  half- vexed  and  half-fawning  tone,  he 
exclaimed,  "  Why  did  'nt  you  tell  me  you  were  a  bishop  ?" 
The  bishop  simply  said,  "  I  am  but  a  Methodist  preacher, 
and  entitled  to  no  more  civility  or  attention  than  the  hum- 
blest of  my  brethren."  His  host  pressed  him  with  suppli- 
ant earnestness  to  stay  to  dinner,  but  he  preferred  to  dine 
elsewhere. 

His  labours  for  the  first  eight  years  of  episcopal  service 
were  very  arduous.  His  extensive  travel  and  frequent 
preaching,  besides  presiding  in  more  than  fifty  Conferences, 


ELIJAH    HEDDING.  183 

and  making  the  appointments  of  the  preachers,  together 
with  the  care  and  responsibility  continually  resting  upon 
him,  seemed  to  him  more  than  his  health  and  strength  could 
sustain,  and  he  seriously  meditated  resigning  his  office  at 
the  General  Conference  in  1832.  He  would  not,  however, 
take  so  important  a  step  without  consulting  with  his 
brethren,  the  delegates  from  the  New- York  and  New- 
England  Conferences.  They  expressed  it  as  their  unani- 
mous opinion  that  he  ought  wholly  to  relinquish  the  idea 
of  ever  resigning  the  episcopal  office,  or  of  discontinuing 
the  exercise  of  it  at  any  time,  unless  under  some  imperious 
dispensation  of  Providence  compelling  him  to  do  so. 
Yielding  to  their  advice,  he  continued  to  attend  to  his  epis- 
copal duties  with  accustomed  zeal  and  faithfulness. 

Any  sketch  of  the  character  or  life  of  Bishop  Hedding 
would  be  very  incomplete  without  a  notice  of  the  trials 
through  which  he  passed  in  the  performance  of  his  official 
duties,  from  1836  to  1841.  These  were  years  of  threat- 
ening excitement,  that  affected  many  of  the  Northern  and 
Eastern  Conferences,  arising  from  the  doctrines  and  meas- 
ures of  abolitionism.  For  some  reason  it  became  his  duty, 
more  than  of  any  of  his  colleagues,  to  have  the  charge  of 
those  Conferences  where  ultra  measures  on  the  agitating 
subject  were  attempted.  This  may  have  arisen  from  the 
fact  that  he  had  an  extended  personal  acquaintance  with 
the  members  of  those  Conferences,  and  could  therefore  keep 
a  salutary  check  on  any  plans  that  might  prove  destructive 
to  the  peace  and  unity  of  the  Church ;  or,  it  might  be  that 
his  known  prudence  and  good  judgment,  sustained  by  his 
ability  as  a  presiding  officer,  were  supposed  to  be  a  sure 
guarantee  that  he  would  not  suffer  the  cause  of  God  to 
be  jeoparded  by  any  rashness  in  the  leaders  of  the  agita- 


184  ELIJAH     HEDDINO. 

tion.  It  would  have  been  ground  of  thankfulness  to  him, 
if  he  could  have  been  excused  from  the  painful  labours, 
through  which  duty  required  him  to  pass,  in  these  five 
years  of  fearful  excitement.  But  he  was  the  last  man  to 
yield  the  post  to  which  duty  assigned  him.  Many  things 
contributed  to  distress  his  mind  in  these  troublous  times. 
Some  of  those  who  led  the  agitation  were  his  old  and  inti- 
mate friends ;  and  it  grieved  his  soul  to  see  those  with  whom 
he  had  laboured  for  years  in  intimate  fellowship  and  peace 
embracing  sentiments  and  advocating  measures  that  he 
fully  believed  would  injure  themselves,  as  well  as  hurt  the 
cause  of  God ;  and  he  was  pained  to  be  compelled  to  re- 
monstrate with  them,  and  to  warn  them  of  the  evil  that  he 
saw  inevitably  following  their  course.  He  dearly  loved  the 
Church,  and  his  heart  sickened  as  he  saw  the  devastation 
produced  by  the  alienations,  suspicions,  and  hostilities 
among  brethren,  through  the  intemperate  discussions  that 
were  had  on  the  disturbing  subject.  He  became  himself 
the  object  of  attack :  for  doing  what  he  believed  to  be  his 
duty,  and  what  the  interests  of  religion  imperatively  re- 
quired, he  was  loaded  with  reproaches,  and  slanders.  Some 
of  the  leaders  of  the  agitation  followed  him  from  Confer- 
ence to  Conference,  and,  by  publications  and  harangues, 
called  in  question  the  integrity  of  his  sentiments,  and  im- 
peached his  administration  as  tyrannical  and  oppressive. 
Undaunted,  he  swerved  nothing  from  the  line  of  duty.  To 
the  young  and  deceived  he  was  patient,  forbearing,  and 
paternal  in  his  counsels ;  to  the  intractable  and  obstinate  he 
was  decided  and  prompt  in  his  warnings ;  and  after  a  few 
years  he  had  the  happiness  to  see  the  threatened  storm  pass 
by,  and  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  his  faithful  admin- 
istration had  proved  effectual  in  restoring  harmony  to  the 


ELIJAH    BEDDING.  185 

troubled  Churches.  It  was  a  favourite  plan  of  his  oppo- 
nents, during  this  agitation,  to  attempt  in  various  ways  to 
embarrass  him  as  presiding  officer ;  but  all  their  attempts 
were  promptly  met  and  frustrated.  The  crafty  were  often 
taken  in  their  own  net.  One  of  many  instances  of  the  kind 
will  be  given : — He  had  stated  in  a  public  address  on  dis- 
cipline, that  it  might  be  the  duty  of  a  bishop,  in  case  a 
majority  of  the  members  of  a  Conference  should  embrace 
erroneous  or  heretical  doctrines,  or  become  addicted  to  any 
sinful  practices,  and  therefore  could  not  be  impartially 
tried  in  their  own  Conference,  to  transfer  a  portion  of  them 
to  some  other  Conference,  where  they  could  be  fairly  tried. 
A  member  of  a  New-England  Conference,  who  soon  after 
left  the  Church  and  embraced  the  wild  vagaries  of  a 
modern  delusion,  introduced  a  preamble  and  resolution  for 
the  action  of  the  Conference,  which,  having  stated  the  doc- 
trine as  taught  by  the  bishop,  went  on  further  to  say :  "And 
whereas  many  of  the  preachers  in  the  Southern  conferences 
are  so  far  connected  with  slavery,  and  are  slaveholders, 
that  they  cannot  be  impartially  tried  in  their  own  confer- 
ences for  any  violations  of  the  discipline  on  that  subject, 
therefore,  Resolved,  that  Bishop  Hedding  be  respectfully 
requested  to  transfer  such  preachers  to  Northern  conferences, 
where  the  discipline  in  their  case  may  be  impartially  ad- 
ministered." He  immediately  saw  the  mischievous  design 
of  the  resolution,  and,  rising  from  his  chair,  said:  "Well, 
brethren,  if  you  are  prepared  for  the  resolution,  I  am  ready 
to  put  it.  But  you  must  bear  in  mind,  that  if  we  transfer 
men  from  the  South  to  the  North,  we  must  also  transfer  men 
from  the  North  to  the  South,  to  fill  their  places.  We  now 
need  a  preacher  in  New-Orleans,  and  the  first  man  I  trans- 
fer will  be  brother  R ,  the  mover  of  the  resolution. 


186  ELIJAH    HEDDING. 

Are  you  ready  for  the  question?"  A  motion  was  imme- 
diately made  to  lay  the  preamble  and  resolution  on  the 

table,  and  the  friends  of  brother  R were  glad  to  vote 

for  it ;  and  it  was  carried  by  a  unanimous  vote. 

Christian  magnanimity,  that  would  not  allow  him  to  cher- 
ish resentment  for  any  injury  inflicted  on  himself,  was  a 
noble  trait  in  the  character  of  Bishop  Hedding.  He  could 
not  but  feel  the  smart,  but  he  forgave  the  offender.  His  was 
the  spirit  of  his  Master,  who,  with  a  liberal  charity,  was  ever 
ready  to  say  of  his  opposers,  "They  know  not  what  they 
do."  He  showed  this  magnanimity  toward  his  brethren  of 
the  New-England  Conference  at  the  General  Conference  in 
1840.  That  conference,  as  much  as  any  other,  had  attempted 
disorganizing  measures,  and,  by  resolutions  and  votes,  had 
implicated  and  endeavoured  to  embarrass  his  administra- 
tion. He  believed  that  the  most  of  its  members  had  seen 
the  error  of  their  course,  and  at  this  General  Conference 
interposed  to  prevent  any  censure  being  cast  upon  them. 

The  Committee  on  Itinerancy,  to  whom  is  intrusted  the 
examination  of  the  records  of  the  several  Annual  Confer- 
ences, made  a  report,  in  the  preamble  of  which  they  ac- 
cused the  New-England  Conference,  for  the  four  years 
preceding,  of  being  "disorganizing  in  their  proceedings, 
and  to  have  pursued  a  course  destructive  to  the  peace, 
harmony,  and  unity  of  the  Church."  When  the  question 
came  for  the  adoption  of  the  report,  and  it  was  probable 
that  it  would  be  adopted,  Bishop  Hedding,  forgetful  of  the 
reproach  which  the  hasty  action  of  that  Conference  had  cast 
upon  him,  with  an  earnest  apology  or  plea  in  its  behalf, 
prevailed  on  the  General  Conference  to  lay  the  report  on 
the  table. 

As  a  presiding  officer  in  the  Conferences,  Bishop  Hed- 


ELIJAH    BEDDING.  187 

ding  had  no  superior.  His  knowledge  of  business,  and  his 
thorough  acquaintance  with  the  rules  that  govern  deliber- 
ative bodies,  qualified  him  in  an  eminent  degree  for  the 
duties  of  a  president.  An  instance  of  this  was  given  while 
presiding  at  the  session  of  the  General  Conference  in  1840. 
A  motion,  in  which  considerable  interest  was  felt,  was  put 
by  him,  and  the  vote  declared  to  be  a  tie.  He  was  called 
upon  to  give  the  casting  vote,  but  declined,  saying,  that 
though  he  had  no  objection  to  express  his  opinion  on  the 
question  before  the  conference,  in  a  proper  way,  he  did  not 
believe  it  lawful  for  a  bishop  to  vote  in  the  General  Con- 
ference. This  declaration  created  some  astonishment,  and 
the  more  as  it  had  been  done  by  other  presidents,  in  other 
cases.  But  he  went  on  to  give  his  reasons,  from  analogy, 
so  clear  and  convincing,  that  not  a  member  of  the  body 
doubted  the  correctness  of  his  decision. 

He  regarded  the  election  to  the  episcopacy  as  an  elec- 
tion to  office,  and  though,  in  the  nature  of  the  case,  not 
properly  an  office  for  frequent  change,  as  many  inferior 
appointments,  yet  by  no  means  requiring  the  continuance 
of  the  incumbent  when  health  or  other  causes  called  for 
resignation.  "With  such  views,  and  suffering  much  from 
acute  or  chronic  disease,  he  often  consulted  with  his  breth- 
ren on  the  propriety  of  resigning  his  office,  and,  at  different 
times,  even  to  the  last  General  Conference  he  attended, 
intimated  to  that  body  a  doubt  if  the  state  of  his  health 
would  justify  them  in  expecting  him  to  do  effective  ser- 
vice, and  a  readiness  to  resign.  But  the  Church  had  too 
high  an  opinion  of  his  worth  as  a  counsellor,  and  too 
grateful  a  femembrance  of  his  faithfulness  in  all  the  trusts 
she  had  confided  to  him,  to  think  for  a  moment  of  allow- 
ing him  to  resign ;  and,  at  different  General  Conferences, 


188  ELIJAH    HEDDING.      ' 

when  he  referred  the  subject  to  them,  voted  that  he  should 
be  expected  to  perform  such  service  only  as  he  should 
judge  his  health  would  permit  him  to  do.  He  continued, 
however,  an  effective  bishop,  presiding  in  Conferences, 
fixing  the  appointments  of  the  preachers,  and  giving, 
orally  or  by  letter,  such  official  counsel  as  the  functions 
of  his  office  required,  to  within  a  short  time  before  his 
death. 

As  the  several  primary  rays  of  light  in  proper  combina- 
tion form  a  pure  white,  so  the  happy  union  and  propor- 
tion of  his  many  noble  qualities  gave  to  Bishop  Hedding 
a  completeness  of  character.  From  whatever  point  he  is 
observed — whether  as  a  man,  a  Christian,  a  minister,  or  a 
bishop — he  seems  entire  and  without  fault.  "His  mind, 
naturally  clear  and  discriminating,  had  been  well-matured 
by  reading  and  study,  by  intercourse  with  men,  and  by  a 
large  and  well-improved  experience.  He  was  possessed 
of  great  simplicity  and  sincerity  of  manner,  a  peculiar 
and  confiding  openness  in  his  intercourse  with  his  brethren, 
that  at  once  won  their  confidence  and  affections.  At  the 
same  time,  his  natural  dignity  and  great  discretion  made 
him  an  object  of  reverence  as  well  as  of  affection.  His 
great  shrewdness,  and  his  almost  instinctive  insight  into 
the  character  of  men,  guarded  him  from  becoming  the 
dupe  of  the  crafty  and  designing.  His  heart  was  as  true 
as  it  was  large  in  its  sympathies.  His  brethren  never  in 
vain  sought  his  counsel  or  his  sympathy.  The  soundness 
of  his  views  upon  the  doctrines  and  discipline  of  the 
Church  was  so  fully  and  universally  conceded,  that  in  the 
end  he  became  almost  an  oracle  in  these  respects ;  and  his 
opinions  are  regarded  with  profound  veneration.  As  a 
theologian  and  divine,  his  views  were  comprehensive,  logi- 


ELIJAH     HEDDING.  189 

cal,  and  well-matured.  His  discourses  were  an  example 
of  neatness,  order,  perspicuity,  and  completeness.  He 
had  a  most  tenacious  memory.  His  mind  was  richly 
stored  with  incident  and  anecdote,  as  well  as  with  all 
kinds  of  the  most  valuable  knowledge,  collected  from 
books,  from  observation,  and  from  experience.  His  con- 
versational powers  were  of  a  high  order — the  events  of 
the  past  seemed  to  start  up  from  their  lurking  places,  and 
come  forth  with  all  the  freshness  and  life  of  recent  occur- 
rences. There  was  often  with  him  a  genial  sprightliness, 
humour,  and  wit,  and  a  keen  sense  of  the  ludicrous,  that 
macle  him  a  most  companionable  friend.  Yet  his  cheer- 
fulness never  descended  below  the  purity  of  the  Christian 
character,  or  the  dignity  of  the  Christian  man.  His,  too, 
was  a  most  liberal  and  catholic  spirit.  He  toiled  long  and 
hard  to  build  up  the  Church  of  his  early  choice;  and  his 
affections  were  deeply  wedded  to  that  Church ;  but  they 
were  not  exclusive.  He  felt  a  kindred  sympathy  for 
Christians  of  every  name,  and  felt,  too,  that  he  was  with 
them  a  common  partner  in  the  kingdom  and  patience  of 
Christ  Jesus.  His  nature  was  too  noble,  his  heart  too 
large,  and  his  views  too  broad  and  enlightened  to  admit 
of  his  being  cut  off  from  sympathy  with  the  common 
brotherhood  of  the  Christian  faith.  Yet  he  felt  that  God 
had  appointed  him  to  his  sphere  of  labour,  and  it  was  his 
highest  joy  to  pursue  it."* 

The  first  acute  attack  that  proved  the  premonitor  of 
approaching  death  was  on  the  28th  of  December,  1850. 
From  this  time,  for  more  than  fifteen  months,  "his  decline 
was  gradual,  sometimes  relieved  by  favourable  indications, 
and  at  other  times  accelerated  by  sudden  and  alarming 

0  Quarterly  Review,  January,  1853. 


190  ELIJAH    BEDDING. 

steps."  His  intellect,  notwithstanding  his  intense  and  pro- 
tracted bodily  sufferings,  remained  clear  and  vigorous  to 
the  last.  "  His  conversation  during  the  last  months  and 
weeks  of  his  life  was  heavenly  and  edifying  beyond  de- 
gree." To  different  brethren  in  the  ministry  who  were 
privileged  to  visit  him  in  his  last  sickness,  he  often  spoke 
of  his  love  for  the  Church,  of  the  sufficiency  of  the  atone- 
ment, and  of  his  joy  and  confidence  as  he  trusted  in  it 
alone  for  salvation.  He  spoke  of  heaven,  and  of  his 
assurance  that  he  was  going  thither.  He  exhorted  them 
to  preach  Christ  while  they  had  life  and  strength.  The 
nearer  the  final  moment  approached,  the  brighter  seemed 
his  prospects  of  the  glorious  world  to  which  he  hastened. 
Almost  the  last  uttered  sentences  of  the  victorious  Chris- 
tian minister  and  bishop  were,  "  Glory,  glory !  Glory  to 
God !  glory  to  God !  glory  to  God !  Glory !  I  am  happy — 
filled !"  He  died  on  the  9th  of  April,  1852. 


* * 


•oljn 


CHRISTIANITY  did  for  the  Rev.  JOHN  FLETCHER  all  that  it 
can  do  for  an  inhabitant  of  this  earth.  It  fulfilled  in  him 
every  precept  of  the  decalogue,  and  every  beatitude  of  the 
sermon  on  the  mount.  Whatever  the  gospel  makes  a  duty 
he  performed,  whatever  it  promises  as  a  privilege  he 
enjoyed.  In  life  and  death  he  may  have  had  a  few  equals, 
but  no  superior  throughout  the  Christian  age.  His  life  was 
like  the  sea  of  glass  in  the  Apocalypse,  and  his  death  like 
the  same  sea  "  mingled  with  fire." 

He  was  born  at  ISTyon,  in  Switzerland,  Sept.  12th,  1729. 
Like  every  boy  that  has  ever  grown  to  manhood,  he  was 
frequently  in  imminent  peril.  At  one  time  he  was  prac- 
tising the  art  of  fencing  with  his  brother,  who  nearly  killed 
him  by  a  thrust  of  his  sword,  which  split  the  button  on  the 
point  of  it,  and  entered  his  side.  At  another  time,  he  fell 
from  a  high  wall,  and  was  barely  saved  by  a  bed  of  mortar 
which  broke  the  violence  of  his  fall.  Once  he  was  swim- 
ming in  deep  water,  when  a  long  hair-ribbon,  becoming 
loose,  twisted  about  his  person,  and  nearly  drowned  him. 
One  evening,  in  company  with  four  others,  he  foolishly 
swam  to  a  rock  five  miles  from  the  shore,  where  they  all 
nearly  perished,  not  being  able  for  some  time  to  raise  them- 
selves out  of  the  water.  At  another  time  he  was  carried 


192  JOHN    FLETCHER. 

by  the  rapids  of  the  Rhine  a  distance  of  five  miles,  when 
his  breast  struck  one  of  the  piles  that  supported  a  powder- 
mill,  and  for  twenty  minutes  he  floated  senseless  under  the 
mill.  Mr.  "Wesley  believed  that  the  preservation  of  his  life 
among  the  piles  was  a  miracle  wrought  by  the  power  of 
angels.  It  was  at  least  a  manifest  instance  of  a  special 
providence,  which,  when  human  wisdom  and  strength  can 
do  no  more,  "keeps  our  soul  in  life."  And  who  can  dis- 
tinguish this  from  a  miracle  ? 

Mr.  Fletcher  was  educated  principally  at  the  University 
of  Geneva,  where  his  uncommon  abilities  bore  away  prize 
after  prize  from  young  gentlemen  who  were  nearly  related 
to  the  professors.  Having  accomplished  the  usual  course, 
and  gained  the  honours  of  the  first  class,  his  father  wished 
him  to  enter  the  ministry.  From  his  childhood  he  had 
secretly  desired  the  holy  ofiice ;  but  about  the  time  of  leav- 
ing the  university,  he  changed  his  mind  in  favour  of  a 
military  life.  His  parents  remonstrated,  but  he  persisted. 
He  had  learned  to  tremble  at  the  thought  of  touching  the 
ark,  and  preferred  the  dangers  of  the  camp  to  the  responsi- 
bilities of  the  Church.  His  parents  were  grieved  and 
refused  their  consent.  He  started  for  Lisbon,  and  procured 
a  commission  in  the  Portuguese  navy.  A  few  days  before 
the  ship  sailed,  a  maid,  while  serving  him  at  the  table, 
spilled  the  hot  tea  on  his  foot.  The  ship  left  without  him, 
and  was  never  after  heard  of.  How  much  the  Church  is 
indebted  to  the  blunder  of  an  awkward  girl !  Yet, 

"  There 's  a  Divinity  that  shapes  onr  ends, 
Rough-hew  them  as  we  will." 

He  returned  from  Lisbon,  accepted  a  commission  in  the 
Dutch  army,  and  immediately  set  out  for  Flanders;  but 


JOHN    FLETCHER. 

before  he  reached  the  camp,  the  war  was  suddenly  closed 
by  the  peace  of  Aix-la-Chapelle.  From  that  time  he  dis- 
missed all  thoughts  of  a  military  life,  and  thus  in  the  provi- 
dence of  God,  he  who  was  designed  for  the  service  of  the 
Prince  of  Peace  was  not  permitted  to  become  "  a  man  of 
blood." 

Soon  after  he  laid  by  his  sword — his  "  unfleshed  sword," 
as  the  savage  word  now  goes — he  went  to  England,  where, 
under  the  tuition  of  a  Mr.  Burchell,  he  studied  the  English 
language  for  eighteen  months,  and  mastered  it  so  thoroughly 
that  Mr.  Wesley  thought  no  foreigner  ever  wrote  it  with 
greater  purity  and  elegance.  After  this,  he  became  a 
private  tutor  to  the  two  sons  of  Mr.  Thomas  Hill,  in  Shrop- 
shire. It  was  during  his  connexion  with  this  family  that 
Mr.  Fletcher  first  heard  the  Methodist  name.  Mr.  Hill 
went  to  London  to  attend  parliament,  and  took  with  him 
his  family  and  young  tutor.  As  they  rode  through  St. 
Albans,  Fletcher,  who  was  on  horseback,  happened  to 
meet  a  poor  woman,  who  engaged  him  in  religious  conver- 
sation. The  incident  detained  him  for  a  long  time  behind 
his  company.  When  he  came  up  they  inquired  the  cause 
of  his  delay.  He  answered  that  he  had  met  with  a  poor 
woman,  who  talked  so  sweetly  to  him  of  Christ  that  he 
rcould  not  get  away.  "I  shall  wonder,"  said  Mrs.  Hill, 
"  if  our  tutor  does  not  turn  Methodist."  "  Methodist, 
madam,"  said  he;  "what  is  that?"  She  replied,  "They 
are  a  people  who  pray  day  and  night."  "Then,"  said 
he,  "  by  the  help  of  God  I  will  find  them,  if  they  be 
above  ground !" 

Shortly  after  this  he  took  the  vows  of  God  upon  him  for 
a  life-long  service.  He  had  indeed  feared  God  from  child- 
hood ;  but  it  was  not  till  the  twenty-fifth  year  of  his  age 

13 


194  JOHN    FLETCHER. 

that  he  experienced  that  great  spiritual  change  which  the 
New  Testament  describes  as  a  " new  birth,"  a  "  new  crea- 
tion," a  "passing  from  death  to  life,"  and  a  calling  "out 
of  darkness  into  his  marvellous  light."  The  Scriptures 
clearly  mark  this  as  a  new  era  of  a  man's  life,  an  event,  an 
epoch  in  his  history,  as  distinctly  defined  as  the  commence- 
ment of  civil  manhood  is  defined  by  the  laws  of  civilized 
nations.  The  account  of  this  divine  renewal  we  have  from 
his  own  pen,  but  it  is  too  long  to  be  inserted  in  this  brief 
sketch.*  It  is  sufficient  to  say,  that  after  many  strong  cry- 
ings  with  tears,  much  fasting,  and  much  reading  of  the  Scrip- 
tures, and  many  conversations  with  devout  men,  he  rose  from 
the  dark  land  into  light  and  joy.  But  the  light  was  like  the 
first  faint  rays  of  the  dawn,  and  the  joy  was  little  more 
than  the  bare  relief  of  a  heavy  heart.  He  prayed  most 
devoutly  that  he  might  not  be  deceived  as  to  the  reality  of 
his  conversion.  The  prayer  was  soon  answered.  One  day, 
while  lying  prostrate  on  the  floor,  his  faith  grew  into  a 
vision  of  Christ  on  the  cross,  and  as  he  looked,  he  cried 
from  the  overwhelming  joy  of  his  heart : — 

"  Seized  by  the  rage  of  sinful  men, 

I  see  Christ  bound,  and  bruised,  and  slain — 

?T  is  done,  the  martyr  dies ! 
His  life  to  ransom  ours  is  given, 
And  lo !  the  fiercest  fire  of  heaven 

Consumes  the  sacrifice. 

He  suffers  both  from  men  and  God, 
He  bears  the  universal  load 
Of  guilt  and  misery ! 

0  See  Benson's  Life  of  Fletcher — a  piece  of  spiritual  biography  of  un- 
rivalled excellence.  The  late  Dr.  Fisk  said  he  was  more  deeply  indebted 
to  it  than  to  any  other  uninspired  book. 


JOHN   FLETCHER.  195 

He  suffers  to  reverse  our  doom, 
And  lo !  my  Lord  is  here  become 
The  Bread  of  Life  to  me  \" 

From  that  time  he  doubted  no  more.  The  darkness  was 
past,  and  the  true  light  shone  with  no  dubious  ray.  He 
now  began  a  life  of  unceasing  mortification,  and,  as  he 
afterward  confessed,  of  unjustifiable  austerity.  He  never 
slept  while  he  could  keep  awake.  He  spent  two  whole 
nights  in  each  week  in  reading,  meditation,  and  prayer. 
He  lived  entirely  on  vegetables,  and  ate  only  enough  of 
these  to  keep  him  on  his  feet.  This  severe  treatment  of 
himself  he  afterward  regretted,  as  it  injured  his  health  and 
laid  the  foundation  of  future  disease.  Besides  this,  he  said 
to  Mrs.  Fletcher,  "When  the  body  is  brought  low,  Satan 
gains  an  advantage  over  the  soul.  It  is  certainly  our  duty 
to  take  all  the  care  we  can  of  our  health.  But  at  that  time 
I  did  not  seem  to  feel  the  want  of  the  sleep  I  deprived  my- 
self of." 

Kot  long  after  his  conversion,  the  purpose  of  his  child- 
hood was  renewed.  His  burning  heart  turned  toward  the 
ministry.  But  what  enlightened  man  can  think  of  that 
without  trembling  ?  His  new  conscience  looked  at  it  with 
a  hundred  eyes.  Charles  "Wesley  had  sung  a  note  of 
terror : — 

"  How  ready  is  the  man  to  go, 
Whom  God  has  never  sent ! 

How  cautious,  diffident,  and  slow, 
His  chosen  instrument!" 

Fletcher  felt  this  deep  in  his  heart.  He  wrote  to  Mr. 
"Wesley : — 

"  I  am  in  suspense.  On  one  side,  my  heart  tells  me  I 
must  try;  and  tells  me  so  whenever  I  feel  any  degree  of 


196  JOHN    FLETCHEK. 

the  love  of  God  and  man :  on  the  other,  when  I  examine 
whether  I  am  fit  for  it,  I  so  plainly  see  my  want  of  gifts, 
and  especially  that  soul  of  all  the  labours  of  a  minister, 
love,  continual,  universal,  naming  love,  that  my  con- 
fidence disappears.  I  accuse  myself  of  pride,  to  dare  to 
entertain  the  desire  of  supporting  the  ark  of  God,  and  con- 
clude that  an  extraordinary  punishment  will  sooner  or  later 
overtake  my  rashness.  As  I  am  in  both  of  these  frames 
successively,  I  must  own,  sir,  I  do  not  see  which  of  these 
ways  before  me  1  can  take  with  safety,  and  shall  gladly  be 
ruled  by  you,  because  I  trust  God  will  direct  you  in  giving 
me  the  advice  you  think  will  best  conduce  to  his  glory, 
which  is  the  only  thing  I  would  have  in  view  in  this  affair. 
I  know  how  precious  your  time  is,  and  desire  no  long  an- 
swer. Persist,  or  forbewr,  will  satisfy  and  influence,  rev- 
erend sir,  your  unworthy  servant,  J.  F." 

We  are  ignorant  of  Mr.  Wesley's  answer,  yet  think  we 
could  almost  copy  without  having  seen  it.  John  Wesley 
could  give  but  one  answer  to  such  a  letter  from  John 
Fletcher.  In  substance  it  was,  "Persist"  On  the  6th  of 
March,  1757,  he  was  ordained  deacon,  and  the  next  Sunday, 
presbyter,  by  the  Bishop  of  Bangor,  in  the  Chapel  Royal 
at  St.  James.  He  hasted  from  the  altar  where  he  received 
ordination,  to  assist  Mr.  Wesley  in  administering  the  sacra- 
ment at  West-street  Chapel.  In  the  course  of  that  year  he 
preached  in  their  own  language  to  a  company  of  French 
prisoners  at  Tunbridge.  The  soldiers,  deeply  affected, 
requested  him  to  preach  to  them  again.  But  the  Bishop 
of  London  interfered  and  forbade  him.  The  bishop  shortly 
after  died  of  a  cancer  in  his  mouth.  "  A  just  retribution," 
thought  Mr.  Wesley,  "  for  silencing  such  a  prophet."  Per- 


JOHN    FLETCHER.  197 

haps  it  was ;  but  who  shall  interpret  the  ways,  especially 
the  judgments  of  God  ?* 

In  the  course  of  this  year,  and  after  his  reputation  as  a 
preacher  began  to  be  known,  he  availed  himself  of  an 
opportunity  to  call  upon  the  eccentric  but  useful  Mr. 
Berridge,  the  Yicar  of  Everton.  Fletcher  introduced  him- 
self as  a  raw  convert,  who  had  taken  the  liberty  to  call 
upon  him  for  the  benefit  of  his  instruction  and  advice. 
From  his  accent  and  manners,  Mr.  Berridge  perceived  that 
he  was  a  foreigner,  and  inquired  what  countryman  he  was. 
"  A  Swiss,  from  the  canton  of  Berne,"  was  the  reply.  "From 
Berne !  then  probably  you  can  give  me  some  account  of  a 
young  countryman  of  yours,  one  John  Fletcher,  who  has 
lately  preached  a  few  times  for  the  Messrs.  "Wesley,  and  of 
whose  talents,  learning,  and  piety,  they  both  speak  in  terms 
of  high  eulogy.  Do  you  know  him  ?"  "  Yes,  sir,  I  know 
him  intimately ;  and  did  those  gentlemen  know  him  as  well, 
they  would  not  speak  of  him  in  such  terms,  for  which  he 
is  more  obliged  to  their  partial  friendship  than  to  his  own 

0  A  propensity  to  judge  in  this  respect  was  one  of  the  very  few  errors 
of  this  eminently  wise  and  good  man.  It  was  almost  the  only  point  on 
which  his  enemies  fairly  fastened  him.  Take  this  case.  The  Bishop  of 
London  must  needs  die  like  other  men.  To  die  by  a  cancer  in  the  mouth 
is  not  worse  than  to  die  by  twenty  other  diseases.  We  knew  a  holy  man 
who  died  by  a  most  painful  disease  under  his  tongue.  How  then  shall  we 
distinguish  the  judgment,  where  the  cause  is  common?  An  anecdote  of 
Milton  teaches  on  this  subject  an  important  lesson : — The  Duke  of  York 
(afterward  James  II.)  one  day  called  on  the  great  poet,  after  he  had  gone 
blind.  During  the  interview  the  duke  imprudently  asked  him  if  he  did 
not  think  his  blindness  a  judgment  of  God,  for  the  part  he  had  taken 
against  his  late  father,  Charles  L  Milton  replied,  "If  your  highness  thinks 
that  the  calamities  which  overtake  us  in  this  world  are  all  judgments  of 
God  for  our  sins,  what  shall  I  think  of  your  royal  father?  /  have  lost  my 
eyes,  but  he  lost  his  head .'" 


198  JOHN    FLETCHER. 

merits."  "  You  surprise  me,"  said  Mr.  Berridge,  "  in  speak- 
ing so  coldly  of  a  countryman  in  whose  praise  they  are  so 
warm."  "  I  have  the  best  reason,"  he  replied,  "  for  speak- 
ing of  him  as  I  do — I  am  John  Fletcher !"  "  If  you  be 
John  Fletcher,"  said  Mr.  Berridge,  "  you  must  do  me  the 
favour  to  take  my  pulpit  to-morrow;  and  when  we  are 
better  acquainted,  without  implicitly  receiving  your  state- 
ment, or  that  of  your  friends,  I  shall  be  able  to  judge  for 
myself."  Thus  commenced  an  intimacy  with  Mr.  Berridge 
which  controversy  could  not  interrupt.* 

We  pass  over  a  period  of  three  years,  during  which  Mr. 
Fletcher  still  remained  as  tutor  in  the  family  of  Mr.  Hill. 
One  of  his  pupils  died  as  soon  as  he  became  of  age,  and  the 
other  became  a  member  of  Parliament  for  Shropshire,  and 
finally  took  his  seat  in  the  House  of  Peers.  Mr.  Hill,  as  a 
mark  of  his  high  esteem  for  Mr.  Fletcher,  and  an  additional 
compensation  for  the  valuable  service  rendered  to  his  two 
sons,  presented  him  the  living  of  Madeley.  This  was  in 
1760.  We  find  the  curious  account  of  this  presentation  in 
the  work  just  quoted: — 

"  One  day  Mr.  Hill  informed  him  that  the  living  at 
Dunham,  in  Cheshire,  then  vacant,  was  at  his  service. 
'  The  parish,'  said  he,  '  is  small,  the  duty  light,  the  income 
good,  (£400  per  annum;)  and  it  is  situated  in  a  fine, 
healthy,  sporting  country.'  He  thanked  Mr.  Hill  most 
cordially  for  his  kindness,  but  added,  '  Alas !  sir,  Dunham 
will  not  suit  me ;  there  is  too  much  money,  and  too  little 
labour.'  'Few  clergymen  make  such  objections,'  said  Mr. 
Hill ;  « it  is  a  pity  to  decline  such  a  living,  as  I  do  not  know 
that  I  can  find  you  another.  What  shall  we  do  ?  Would 
you  like  Madeley  ?'  '  That,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Fletcher,  « would 

0  Life  and  Times  of  Selina,  Countess  of  Huntingdon. 


JOHN     FLETCHER.  199 

be  the  very  place  for  me.'  '  My  object,  Mr.  Fletcher,  is  to 
make  you  comfortable  in  your  own  way.  If  you  prefer 
Madeley,  I  shall  find  no  difficulty  in  persuading  Chambers, 
the  present  vicar,  to  exchange  it  for  Dunham,  which  is 
worth  more  than  twice  as  much.'  In  this  way  he  became 
Vicar  of  Madeley." 

Mr.  "Wesley  never  approved  of  the  position  that  Fletcher 
chose  for  himself.  He  regarded  it  as  the  great  mistake  of 
his  life — as  nothing  less  than  lighting  a  candle  and  putting 
it  under  a  bushel.  When,  on  the  day  of  his  ordination,  he 
came  to  Mr.  "Wesley's  assistance,  the  latter  wrote  in  his 
journal:  "How  wonderful  are  the  ways  of  God!  "When 
my  bodily  strength  failed,  and  none  in  England  were  able 
or  willing  to  assist  me,  He  sent  me  help  from  the  mountains 
of  Switzerland,  and  a  help-mate  for  me  in  every  respect. 
Where  could  I  have  found  such  another?"  Mr.  Wesley, 
therefore,  felt  deeply  disappointed  when  Fletcher  buried 
himself  in  an  obscure  town  on  the  borders  of  Wales. 

Madeley,  in  the  County  of  Salop,  and  the  surrounding 
places,  were  inhabited  by  a  population  of  miners  and 
manufacturers,  the  great  majority  of  whom  were  almost  as 
ignorant  as  savages,  and  nearly  as  vicious  in  manners  and 
morals.  It  was  here  that  Fletcher,  with  but  short  intervals, 
spent  the  remaining  twenty-five  years  of  his  life.  At  first 
his  congregation  was  small,  and  at  times  he  almost  de- 
spaired of  success.  In  a  letter  to  Charles  Wesley,  dated 
March  10,  1761,  he  says  :— 

"  A  few  days  ago  I  was  violently  tempted  to  quit  Madeley. 
The  spirit  of  Jonah  had  so  seized  upon  my  heart,  that  I  had 
the  insolence  to  murmur  against  the  Lord;  but  the  storm 
is  now  happily  calmed,  at  least,  for  a  season.  Alas,  what 
stubbornness  there  is  in  the  will  of  man  ;  and  with  what 


200  JOHN    FLETCHER. 

strength  does  it  combat  the  will  of  God  under  the  mask  of 
piety,  when  it  can  no  longer  do  so  with  the  uncovered 
shameless  face  of  vice !  .  .  .  The  Lord,  however,  does 
not  leave  me  altogether,  and  I  have  often  a  secret  hope 
that  he  will  one  day  touch  my  heart  and  lips  with  a  live 
coal  from  his  altar,  and  that  then  his  word  shall  consume 
the  stubble  and  break  to  pieces  the  stone." 

His  zeal  rose  with  the  necessities  of  the  evil  day.  He 
was  instant  in  season  and  out  of  season.  Day  and  night, 
and  every  day  and  night,  he  was  engaged  in  labours  more 
abundant.  When  the  heavy  duties  of  the  Sabbath  were 
done,  the  no  less  severe  duties  of  the  week  began.  Besides 
preaching  in  different  places  in  the  neighbourhood  of  his 
parish,  and  returning  frequently  at  two  in  the  morning 
over  miry  roads,  he  regularly  went  from  house  to  house, 
reproving,  rebuking,  instructing,  and  comforting,  with 
apostolic  authority,  and  equal  apostolic  meekness.  The 
wants  of  the  sick  and  the  penitent  he  never  neglected  for 
a  moment.  At  any  hour  of  the  most  inclement  night, 
when  he  heard  the  sound  of  the  knocker  on  his  door,  he 
would  instantly  rise,  and  go  forth  to  minister  at  the  couch 
of  pain,  or  follow  to  the  gates  of  death,  with  his  most  fer- 
vent prayers,  the  souls  of  his  dying  parishioners.  What- 
ever wrongs  or  wicked  behaviour  he  saw  among  his  people, 
he  was  sure  to  visit  with  becoming  severity.  While  he 
pitied  the  weakness  of  human  nature,  he  would  not  tolerate 
its  licentiousness.  He  would  sometimes  break  in  upon  a 
dancing  party  at  midnight,  and  scatter  them  as  no  consta- 
ble in  the  parish  could  do.  He  justly  regarded  this  pas- 
time, with  its  usual  associations,  as  a  disgrace  to  the  Chris- 
tian name ;  and  in  this  opinion  he  is  supported  by  the  unani- 
mous sentiment  of  all,  in  every  age  or  country,  who  have 


JOHN    FLETCHEE.  201 

feared  or  loved  God.  To  secure  a  better  attendance  at 
church,  he  waited  on  those  who  neglected  it,  and  earnestly 
entreated  them  to  come.  Some  of  these  excused  them- 
selves by  saying  they  could  not  awake  in  time  to  get  ready. 
Fletcher's  zeal  was  not  to  be  defeated  by  such  an  idle  plea. 
He  procured  a  hand-bell,  and,  starting  at  five  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  rang  it  through  the  town  and  awoke  the 
whole  parish.  Such  efforts  could  not  entirely  fail.  Within 
a  year  he  wrote  again  to  Charles  Wesley : — 

"  When  I  first  came  to  Madeley,  I  was  greatly  mortified 
and  discouraged  by  the  smallness  of  my  congregations ; 
and  I  thought  that  if  some  of  our  friends  at  London  had 
seen  my  little  company,  they  would  have  triumphed  in 
their  own  wisdom ;  but  now,  thank  God,  things  are  altered 
in  that  respect,  and  last  Sunday  I  had  the  pleasure  of  see- 
ing some  in  the  churchyard  who  could  not  get  into  the 
church." 

By  the  following  October,  however,  these  blossoms  and 
buds  of  promise  were  scattered,  leaving  but  little  fruit  to 
compensate  the  toil  of  the  labourer.  On  the  12th  of  that 
month  he  wrote  again  to  Charles  Wesley : — 

"  My  church  begins  not  to  be  so  well  filled  as  it  has 
been,  and  I  account  for  it  by  the  following  reasons :  the 
curiosity  of  some  of  my  hearers  is  satisfied,  and  others  are 
offended  by  the  word ;  the  roads  are  worse,  and  if  it  should 
ever  please  the  Lord  to  pour  his  Spirit  upon  us,  the  time  is 
not  yet  come ;  for  instead  of  saying,  Let  us  go  up  to  the 
house  of  the  Lord,  they  exclaim,  Why  should  we  go  and 
Jtewr  a  Methodist?  I  should  lose  all  patience  with  my 
flock  if  I  had  not  more  reason  to  be  satisfied  with  them 
than  with  myself.  My  own  barrenness  furnishes  me  with 
excuses  for  theirs,  and  I  wait  the  time  when  God  shall  give 


202  JOHN     FLETCHER. 

seed  to  the  sower,  and  increase  to  the  seed  sown.     In  wait- 
ing that  time  I  learn  the  meaning  of  this  prayer,  <  Thy  will 

be  done.' " 

The  results  of  his  unwearied  labours  among  his  people 
were  various.  A  faithful  minister  never  leaves  his  congre- 
gation as  he  finds  them.  Under  his  ministry  they  grow 
either  better  or  worse ;  or,  in  apostolic  language,  he  is  to 
his  people  "  a  savour  of  life  unto  life,  or  of  death  unto  death." 
It  does  not  appear  that  the  success  of  Mr.  Fletcher's  minis- 
try was  in  any  fair  proportion  to  the  extent  of  his  labour  or 
the  intensity  of  his  zeal.  We  speak  of  the  number  of  actual 
conversions.  In  this  respect  Berridge,  of  Everton,  whom 
Southey  sarcastically  calls  "  both  a  fanatic  and  buffoon," 
was  more  successful.  But  if  Fletcher's  ministry  was  not 
followed  by  a  series  of  great  revivals,  its  effect  was  visible 
in  the  general  and  permanent  impression  it  made  on  the 
morals  of  his  parish.  Some,  indeed,  waxed  worse  and 
worse ;  but  many,  in  the  words  of  his  epitaph,  became  his 
j  oy  and  crown  of  rej oicing.  If  Madeley  was  not  converted, 
it  was  much  reformed  under  the  influence  of  his  pure  ex- 
ample and  ministerial  labour.  It  must  not,  however,  be 
thought  that  Satan  quietly  yielded.  Great  and  good  as 
Fletcher  was,  the  spirit  of  opposition  rose  against  him,  and, 
like  Apollyon  in  the  allegory,  fiercely  bestrode  the  way. 

The  contest  between  religion  and  sin  is  as  real  as  the 
shock  of  contending  armies.  The  war-figure  of  the  Scrip- 
tures stands  on  a  basis  of  fact.  The  world  hates  righteous- 
ness, and  when  its  cherished  evils  are  seriously  assailed, 
like  the  apparently  harmless  toad  touched  by  the  angel's 
spear,  it  reveals  at  once  the  demon  in  his  full  proportions. 
Does  any  minister  doubt  this  ?  Let  him  make  the  experi- 
ment on  the  next  respectable  robber  that  he  meets.  Let 


JOHN     FLETCHER.  203 

him,  like  the  Baptist,  reprove,  with  becotfiing  earnestness, 
the  next  Herod  or  Herodias  that  "  hears  gladly "  the  less 
pointed  and  personal  words  of  his  ministry.  Let  him  place 
himself  in  bold  opposition  to  the  money-making  vices  of 
trade,  and  especially  that  "dreadful  trade"  which  sends 
men  reeling  to  the  bar  of  God,  and  he  will  soon  have  the 
proof  in  no  ambiguous  terms. 

But  few  men  have  had  fuller  experience  of  this  truth 
than  the  excellent  Yicar  of  dissolute  Madeley.  At  one  time 
his  life  was  endangered  by  a  mob  of  drunken  colliers,  who 
had  assembled  for  a  bull-bait  near  the  Rock  Church,  in 
Madeley-Wood.  They  agreed  among  themselves  to  "  bait 
the  parson."  Some  of  them  were  appointed  to  pull  him 
from  his  horse,  and  others  to  set  the  dogs  on  him.  As  he 
was  about  to  start  for  the  place,  he  was  unexpectedly  called 
to  the  funeral  of  a  child,  which  delayed  his  coming  beyond 
the  usual  time.  In  the  meanwhile  the  bull  broke  loose  and 
threw  down  the  booth  where  they  were  assembled,  and  put 
an  end  to  the  meeting  and  sport  of  the  day.  Mr.  Fletcher 
went  to  the  appointment,  and  knew  nothing  of  the  treat- 
ment intended  for  him  until  afterward  told  of  it  by  his 
friends.  Thus,  by  a  special  providence,  this  servant  of 
God  was  saved  from  the  fury  of  men  and  beasts. 

But  this  was  not  the  only  class  of  men  who  set  them- 
selves in  opposition  to  his  ministry.  When  his  church  be- 
came crowded,  some  of  the  church-wardens  undertook  to 
hinder  strangers  of  other  parishes  from  coming  to  the 
sacrament,  or  even  entering  the  church.  The  gentlemen 
of  the  town,  and  magistrates,  whose  revenues  were  derived 
in  part  from  the  public  licentiousness,  were  as  heartily  in- 
censed by  his  zeal  as  the  vulgar  herd.  One  magistrate 
threatened  him  with  imprisonment,  brandished  his  cane 


204  JOHN    FLETCHEE. 

over  him,  and  called  him  a  Jesuit.  The  following  extract 
of  a  letter  to  Charles  Wesley  will  explain  their  rage : — 

"You  have  always  the  goodness  to  encourage  me,  and 
your  encouragements  are  not  unseasonable  ;  for  discourage- 
ments follow  one  after  another  with  very  little  intermission. 
Those  of  an  inward  nature  are  sufficiently  known  to  you ; 
but  some  others  are  peculiar  to  myself,  especially  those  I 
have  had  for  eight  days  past  during  Madeley-wake.  See- 
ing that  I  could  not  suppress  these  bacchanals,  I  did  all  in 
my  power  to  moderate  their  madness ;  but  my  endeavours 
have  had  little  or  no  effect ;  the  impotent  dyke  I  opposed 
only  made  the  torrent  foam  and  swell  without  stopping  its 
course.  You  cannot  well  imagine  how  much  the  animosity 
of  my  parishioners  is  heightened,  and  with  what  boldness 
it  discovers  itself  against  me,  because  I  preach  against 
drunkenness,  shows,  and  bull-baiting.  The  publicans  and 
malt/men  will  not  forgwe  me.  They  think  that  to  preach 
against  drunkenness  and  to  cut  their  purse  is  the  same 
thing." 

Some  of  the  neighbouring  clergy,  to  whom  Fletcher's 
purity  and  zeal  were  a  constant  reproof,  gave  countenance 
to  the  mob  by  persecuting  in  another  way.  In  August, 
1762,  he  wrote  to  Charles  Wesley : — 

"The  opposition  to  my  ministry  increases.  A  young 
clergyman,  who  lives  in  Madeley-Wood,  where  he  has 
great  influence,  has  openly  declared  war  against  me  by 
pasting  on  the  church-door  a  paper,  in  which  he  charges 
me  with  rebellion,  schism,  and  disturbing  the  public  peace. 
He  puts  himself  at  the  head  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  parish, 
(as  they  term  themselves,)  and,  supported  by  the  Kecorder 
of  Wenlock,  he  is  determined  to  put  in  force  the  Conventi- 
cle Act  against  me.  A  few  weeks  ago  the  widow,  who 


JOHN    FLETCHER. 


lives  in  the  Rock  Church,  and  a  young  man  who  read  and 
prayed  in  my  absence,  were  taken  up.  I  attended  them 
before  the  justice,  and  the  young  clergyman  with  his  troop 
were  present.  They  called  me  Jesuit,  &c.,  and  the  justice 
tried  to  frighten  me  by  saying  *  that  he  would  put  the  act 
in  force  though  we  should  assemble  only  in  my  own  house.' 
I  pleaded  my  cause  as  well  as  I  could ;  but,  seeing  he  was 
determined  to  hear  no  reason,  I  told  him  he  must  do  as  he 
pleased,  and  that  if  the  act  concerned  us  we  were  ready  to 
suffer  its  rigours.  In  his  rage  he  went  the  next  day  to 
Wenlock,  and  proposed  to  grant  a  warrant  to  have  me  ap- 
prehended ;  but,  as  the  other  justices  were  of  opinion  that 
the  business  did  not  come  under  their  cognizance,  but  be- 
longed to  the  Spiritual  Court,  he  was  obliged  to  swallow 
his  spittle  alone.  The  church-wardens  talk  of  putting  me 
in  the  Spiritual  Court  for  meeting  in  houses,  &c.  But  what 
is  worst  of  all,  three  false-witnesses  offer  to  prove  upon 
oath  that  I  am  a  liar ;  and  some  of  my  followers  (as  they 
are  called)  have  dishonoured  their  profession,  to  the  great 
joy  of  our  adversaries." 

This  was  a  part,  but  a  very  small  part,  of  the  persecution 
that  tried  this  faithful  minister  through  a  series  of  years. 
But  he  never  for  a  moment  gave  place  to  the  spirit  that, 
even  among  the  twelve,  would  have  called  fire  from  heaven 
on  the  Samaritan  village.  Sometimes,  indeed,  his  reproofs 
rose  to  the  terror  of  prophetic  warnings,  and  in  more  than 
one  instance  they  were  remarkably  fulfilled.  An  example 
of  this  is  recorded  in  a  letter  to  a  friend : — 

"  This  evening  I  have  buried  one  of  the  warmest  opposers 
of  my  ministry,  a  stout,  strong  young  man,  aged  twenty- 
four  years.  About  three  months  ago  he  came  to  the 
church-yard  with  a  corpse,  but  refused  to  come  into  the 


206  JOHN    FLETCHEK. 

church.  When  the  burial  was  over  I  went  to  Jbim,  and 
mildly  expostulated  with  him.  His  constant  answer  was, 
'  that  he  had  bound  himself  never  to  come  to  church  while 
I  was  there,  adding  that  he  would  take  the  consequences.' 
Seeing  I  got  nothing  I  left  him,  saying,  with  uncommon 
warmth,  though,  as  far  as  I  can  remember,  without  the 
least  touch  of  resentment,  'I  am  clear  of  your  blood; 
henceforth  it  is  upon  your  own  head ;  you  will  not  come 
to  church  upon  your  legs,  prepare  to  come  upon  your 
neighbours'  shoulders.'  He  wasted  from  that  time,  and,  to 
my  great  surprise,  has  been  buried  on  the  spot  where  we 
were  when  the  conversation  passed  between  us.  When  I 
visited  him  in  his  sickness,  he  seemed  tame  as  a  wolf  in  a 
trap.  O,  may  God  have  turned  him  into  a  sheep  in  his 
last  hours !" 

Although  Mr.  Fletcher's  labours  were  generally  limited 
to  Madeley  and  the  surrounding  neighbourhood,  yet  he 
occasionally  visited  other  counties,  and  gave  the  benefit  of 
his  refreshing  ministry  to  other  congregations.  Such  was 
his  unaffected  humility  that  he  would  gladly  exchange 
pulpits  with  men  every  way  his  inferiors  in  talents,  learn- 
ing, and  piety,  always  sure  that  his  own  flock  were  gainers 
by  the  exchange.  Wherever  he  went  he  was  followed  by 
the  eager  crowd,  sometimes  to  the  chagrin  of  the  parish 
clerk.  On  one  occasion,  at  Breedon,  in  Leicestershire,  that 
worthy  functionary  was  so  annoyed  by  the  increase  of  the 
congregation,  that  he  determined  to  compensate  himself 
for  his  extra  labour  by  demanding  a  penny  from  every 
stranger  who  came  to  the  church  from  a  distant  parish. 
He  placed  himself  at  the  door  and  began  to  collect  the 
money.  Mr.  Fletcher  heard  of  what  was  going  on  and 
hastened  to  church.  When  the  clerk  saw  him  approach- 


JOHN    FLETCHER.  207 

ing,  he  left  the  door  and  took  to  the  desk.  At  the  close  of 
the  service,  Mr.  Fletcher  said,  "I  have  not  felt  my  spirit  so 
moved  these  sixteen  years  past  as  I  have  to-day.  I  have 
heard  that  the  clerk  of  this  parish  has  demanded,  and 
actually  received  money  from  divers  strangers  before  he 
would  suffer  them  to  enter  the  church.  I  desire  that  all 
who  have  paid  money  this  way  for  hearing  the  gospel 
will  come  to  me,  and  I  will  return  what  they  have  paid. 
And  as  to  this  iniquitous  clerk,  his  money  perish  with 
him." 

At  home  Mr.  Fletcher,  with  a  truly  catholic  spirit,  re- 
joiced to  welcome  the  labours  of  good  men,  whether  they 
were  of  the  Calvinistic  or  Arminian  creed,  and  whether 
episcopally  ordained  or  not.  "  The  coming  of  Mr.  Wesley's 
preachers,"  said  he,  "gives  me  no  uneasiness.  As  I  am 
sensible  that  everybody  does  better  and,  of  course,  is  more 
acceptable  than  myself,  I  should  be  sorry  to  deprive  any 
one  of  a  blessing,  and  I  rejoice  that  the  work  of  God  goes 
on  by  any  instrument  or  in  any  place."  In  a  letter  to  White- 
field,  he  said :  "Last  Sunday  Captain  Scott*  preached  to 
my  congregation  a  sermon  which  was  more  blessed,  though 
preached  only  on  my  horse-block,  than  a  hundred  of  those 
I  preach  in  the  pulpit.  I  invited  him  to  come  and  treat 
her  ladyship  next  Sunday  with  another,  now  the  place  is 
consecrated.  If  you  should  ever  favour  Shropshire  with 

0  Son  of  Richard  Scott,  Esq.,  in  the  County  of  Salop.  He  was  converted 
to  God  under  the  ministry  of  the  excellent  Romaine,  one  of  Lady  Hunting- 
don's chaplains,  and  became  a  very  popular  and  successful  preacher.  He 
bore  about  the  same  relation  to  the  Calvinistic  Methodists  that  Captain 
Webb  did  to  Mr.  Wesley's  societies,  and  drew  special  attention  by  the 
novelty  of  preaching  in  his  regimentals.  In  a  letter  to  the  countess,  Mr. 
Fletcher  says  :  "  I  believe  this  red  coat  will  shame  many  a  black  one.  I  am 
sure  he  shames  me." — Life  and  Times  of  Lady  Huntingdon. 


208  JOHN    FLETCHER. 

your  presence,  you  shall  have  the  captain's  or  the  parson's 
pulpit,  at  your  option." 

In  the  year  1YTO,  in  company  with  his  special  friend,  Mr. 
Ireland,  he  visited  France,  Italy,  and  Switzerland.  Some 
of  the  incidents  of  this  journey  are  peculiarly  interesting, 
as  illustrations  of  Mr.  Fletcher's  character.  When  he 
approached  the  Appian  Way,  the  ancient  road  over  which 
St.  Paul  was  conducted  to  Rome  under  the  charge  of  a 
centurion,  he  ordered  the  driver  to  stop,  saying  to  Mr.  Ire- 
land, "that  his  heart  would  not  suffer  him  to  ride  over 
that  ground  upon  which  the  apostle  had  formerly  walked, 
chained  to  a  soldier,  on  account  of  preaching  the  gospel." 
As  soon  as  he  set  his  foot  on  the  old  Roman  road,  he  took 
off  his  hat  and  walked  on  for  some  time,  with  his  eyes  lifted 
up  to  heaven  in  adoring  gratitude  for  those  truths  for  which 
Paul  suffered  and  died.  He  then  entertained  his  fellow- 
traveller  with  an  animated  discourse  on  a  subject  which  no 
man  has  treated  more  ably — the  character,  experience,  and 
labours  of  St.  Paul.  At  Rome  he  several  times  put  his 
life  in  jeopardy  by  the  freeness  with  which  he  conversed 
with  every  class  of  men,  and  especially  the  priests,  on  the 
corruptions  of  the  Church,  both  in  doctrine  and  practice. 
He  wished  Mr.  Ireland  to  accompany  him  to  the  Pope's 
Chapel,  which  the  latter  would  not  consent  to  do  until  he 
promised  him  that  he  would  not  open  his  lips  to  reprove 
the  anti-Christian  service.  Returning  through  France  to 
Switzerland,  Mr.  Fletcher  visited  the  Protestants  in  the 
Sevennes  Mountains.  Though  the  journey  was  long  and 
difficult,  yet  he  attempted  it  on  foot.  "  Shall  I,"  said  he, 
in  opposition  to  the  remonstrance  of  his  friend,  "  make  a 
visit  on  horseback,  and  at  ease,  to  those  poor  cottagers, 
whose  fathers  were  hunted  along  yonder  rocks  like  par- 


JOHN     FLETCHEE.  209 

tridges  on  the  mountains?  No ;  in  order  to  secure  a  more 
friendly  reception  among  them,  I  will  visit  them  under  the 
plainest  appearance,  with  my  staff  in  my  hand."  He  went 
as  an  apostle  through  their  churches,  and  conversed  with 
their  elders,  instructed  their  youth,  visited  their  sick,  and 
exhorted  from  house  to  house  in  such  a  manner  as  strength- 
ened the  faith  and  comforted  the  hearts  of  the  simple  peo- 
ple. At  Nyon,  in  Switzerland,  the  place  of  his  birth,  he 
preached  with  such  effect  as  the  people  had  never  witnessed 
before.  They  would  gladly  have  detained  him.  An  aged 
clergyman,  after  trying  to  persuade  him  to  remain  among 
them,  said  to  Mr.  Ireland :  "  O,  sir,  how  unfortunate  for 
this  country ;  during  my  day  it  has  produced  but  one  angel 
of  a  man,  and  it  is  our  lot  to  be  deprived  of  him."  "When 
Mr.  Fletcher  left  the  town,  a  large  concourse  of  weeping 
people  crowded  around  his  carriage  and  followed  him  two 
miles  on  his  journey.  He  returned  to  Madeley  after  an 
absence  of  about  three  months. 

In  1768  the  Countess  of  Huntingdon  founded  a  theologi- 
cal institution  at  Trevecca,  in  the  County  of  Brecknock,  in 
Wales.  Her  design  was  to  give  to  pious  young  men  an 
education  for  the  ministry,  under  the  care  of  tutors  eminent 
both  for  learning  and  holiness.  The  students  were  admitted 
for  three  years  without  charge  either  for  board,  tuition,  or 
clothing.  She  applied  to  Mr.  Fletcher  to  take  the  presi- 
dency of  the  college.  He  accepted  it  as  a  call  of  Provi- 
dence, but  would  neither  resign  his  charge  at  Madeley  nor 
reside  at  Trevecca ;  and  for  his  services  he  would  accept 
no  compensation  whatever.  As  the  superintendent  of  this 
school  of  the  prophets,  the  burden  of  his  labour  was  to  pro- 
mote the  spirit  of  piety  among  the  students,  deeming  it  far 
the  most  important  qualification  of  a  messenger  of  Christ. 

14 


210  JOHN    FLETCHER. 

Accordingly,  the  time  he  spent  among  them  was  devoted 
mainly  to  preaching,  religious  conversation,  and  prayer. 
These  ministrations  were  seldom  without  visible  effect. 
At  the  close  of  a  sermon  or  free  conversation  on  experi- 
mental religion,  he  would  say,  "  As  many  of  you  as  are 
athirst  for  the  fulness  of  the  Spirit  follow  me  to  my  room." 
Many  would  gladly  follow  him,  and  remain  for  hours  in 
earnest  prayer  before  God.  It  was  on  one  of  these  occa- 
sions that,  overwhelmed  by  the  divine  blessing,  he  thought 
he  should  die,  and,  in  the  intense  rapture  of  the  moment, 
he  cried  out,  "  0,  my  God,  withhold  thy  hand  or  the  vessel 
will  "break  /" 

Mr.  Fletcher's  connexion  with  the  college  was  broken  off 
in  the  following  manner : — The  minutes  of  the  Wesleyan 
Conference  for  1771  contained  some  propositions  which 
startled  the  Calvinistic  clergy  in  connexion  with  Lady 
Huntingdon.  Her  brother,  the  Rev.  Walter  Shirley,  a 
weak  man,  wrote  a  circular  letter  to  men  of  his  own  views, 
requesting  them  to  go  in  a  body  to  the  next  meeting  of  the 
Conference,  and  insist  on  a  formal  recantation  of  the  ob- 
noxious doctrines.  In  the  meantime  the  countess  caused  a 
strict  inquiry  to  be  made  concerning  the  opinions  of  both 
the  masters  and  students,  declaring  that  whoever  did  not 
disavow  the  heretical  propositions  of  the  minutes  should 
quit  the  college.  "  I  burn  against  them,"  said  she.  Mr. 
Joseph  Benson  was  discharged,  and  Mr.  Fletcher  soon  after 
resigned.  But  the  matter  did  not  end  here.  Mr.  Fletcher 
took  up  his  pen  in  defence  of  the  assailed  minutes,  and  a 
controversy  ensued  which  has  become  as  famous  in  the 
history  of  Calvinism  in  England,  as  the  Synod  of  Dort  was 
in  Germany.  Of  his  opponents  we  shall  say  nothing  more 
than  repeat  the  language  of  Eobert  Hall,  (himself  a  Cal- 


JOHN    FLETCHER.  211 

vinist,)  that  "  lie  would  not  incur  the  guilt  of  defaming  tlie 
character  of  Mr.  Wesley  as  they  did  for  whole  worlds." 
Mr.  Fletcher's  spirit  in  the  controversy  was  as  gentle  as 
ever.  Not  a  solitary  word  can  be  found  in  all  he  wrote  be- 
traying the  least  tang  of  bitterness,  while  the  spirit  of  piety 
thoroughly  penetrated  every  page  of  the  immortal "  Checks." 
Ironical  he  was,  to  a  degree  that  might  sometimes  disturb 
the  leaden  countenance  of  gravity  itself.  His  reasoning 
was  both  profound  and  acute.  He  touched  the  flaw  of  a 
sophism,  and  it  instantly  fell  to  pieces.  He  would  logic- 
ally point  out  the  inconclusiveness  of  an  argument,  and 
leave  it  ridiculously  exposed  in  the  clear  light  of  an  apt 
illustration.  The  great  saving  doctrines  of  Christianity  are 
nowhere  better  explained,  guarded,  and  defended.  Some- 
times his  ardent  soul  would  rise  above  the  dry  work  of  de- 
bate, and  break  forth  in  a  song  of  rejoicing.  When  one  of 
his  opponents  charged  him  with  undervaluing  the  grace 
and  merits  of  Christ,  he  first  refuted  the  accusation  by 
showing  the  consistency  of  "  working  for  life"  with  the 
doctrine  of  salvation  by  grace  alone,  and  then  exclaimed, 
"O,  ye  precious  merits  of  my  Saviour,  and  thou  free 
grace  of  my  God,  I,  for  one,  shall  want  you  as  long  as  the 
sun  or  moon  endureth !  Tea,  when  those  luminaries  shall 
cease  to  shine  I  shall  wrap  myself  within  you !  My  trans- 
ported soul  shall  grasp  you!  My  insatiate  spirit  shall 
plunge  into  your  unfathomable  depths  !  And  while  I  run 
the  never-ending  circle  of  my  blessed  existence,  my  over- 
flowing bliss  shall  spring  from  you,  and  I  shall  strike  my 
golden  harp  to  your  eternal  honour !"  Fletcher's  "  Checks" 
may  be  read  either  as  a  clear  and  comprehensive  defence 
of  Christian  doctrine,  or  as  a  book  of  devotion.  The  history 
of  controversy  has  nothing  like  them. 


21:2  JOHN    FLETCHER. 

During  the  period  of  this  dispute,  and  for  some  time  be- 
fore it  began,  Mr.  Fletcher's  health  was  seriously  impaired. 
His  frequent  journeys,  in  all  seasons,  from  Madeley  to  the 
college,  injured  his  constitution.  But,  though  his  vigour 
was  diminished,  he  still  went  on  with  his  work.  He  would 
study  and  write  fifteen  hours  a  day,  living  meanwhile  on 
the  scantiest  fare.  The  consequences  were  manifest  symp- 
toms of  consumption,  attended  with  spitting  of  blood.  At 
Mr.  "Wesley's  instance,  and  in  his  company,  Mr.  Fletcher 
travelled  through  various  parts  of  England,  a  distance  in 
all  of  nearly  twelve  hundred  miles.  For  a  while  his  health 
seemed  to  improve ;  but  after  reaching  London  the  symp- 
toms grew  worse,  and  his  physicians  pronounced  him  far 
gone  in  a  pulmonary  consumption.  He  retired  from  Lon- 
don to  Stoke-Newington,  where  he  was  kindly  nursed  by 
his  friends,  Charles  and  Mary  Greenwood.  Among  others 
who  visited  him  during  his  stay  in  this  family,  were  several 
of  his  opponents  in  the  late  controversy.  The  meeting  was 
honourable  to  both  parties.  Rudely  as  they  had  treated 
him,  he  now  received  them  in  a  most  respectful  and  affec- 
tionate manner.  "  God  only  knows,"  said  he,  in  one  of  his 
controversial  pieces,  "  how  much  I  love  my  dear  honoured 
opponents."  He  now  gave  them  the  evidence  that  contro- 
versy, even  theological  controversy,  could  not  sour  his 
amiable  spirit.  Mr.  Fletcher  remained  at  Newington  for 
nearly  four  months.  The  kindness  he  received  affected 
his  heart  with  such  gratitude  as  indited  the  following  pas- 
sage of  a  most  touching  letter  :— 

"  You  have  received  a  poor  Lazarus,  though  his  sores 
were  not  visible.  You  have  had  compassion  like  the  good 
Samaritan.  You  have  admitted  me  to  the  enjoyment  of 
your  best  things ;  and  he  that  did  not  deserve  to  have  the 


JOHN    FLETCHEK.  213 

dogs  to  lick  his  sores,  has  always  found  the  members  of 
Jesus  ready  to  prevent,  to  remove,  or  to  bear  his  burdens. 
And  now  what  shall  I  say  ?  What  but,  Thanks  be  to  God 
for  the  wispecikaJble  gift !  And  thanks  to  my  dear  friends 
for  .all  their  favours !  They  will,  I  trust,  be  found  faith- 
fully recorded  in  my  breast,  when  the  great  Rewarder  shall 
render  to  every  man  according  to  his  works.  Then  shall  a 
raised  Lazarus  appear  in  the  gate,  to  testify  of  the  love  of 
Charles  and  Mary  Greenwood,  and  of  their  godly  sister." 

After  he  left  this  hospitable  family,  he  visited  various 
places,  and  tried  various  remedies,  with  but  small  beneficial 
effect.  At  length,  as  a  last  resort,  he  went  to  the  continent, 
and  in  company  with  his  fast  friend,  Mr.  Ireland,  travelled 
through  France,  Italy,  and  into  Switzerland,  where  he  re- 
mained over  three  years  among  the  scenes  of  his  youth. 
As  he  was  about  leaving  Dover  for  France,  he  wrote  again 
to  his  two  friends  at  Newington.  Nothing  can  exceed  the 
affectionate  and  grateful  tone  of  this  letter : — 

"  Ten  thousand  blessings  light  upon  the  heads  and  hearts 
of  my  dear  benefactors,  Charles  and  Mary  Greenwood !  May 
their  quiet  retreat  at  Newington  become  a  Bethel  to  them ! 
May  their  offspring  be  born  again  there !  Their  poor  pen- 
sioner travels  on,  though  slowly,  toward  the  grave.  His 
journey  to  the  sea  seems  to  have  hastened  rather  than  re- 
tarded his  progress  to  his  old  mother  earth.  May  every 
providential  blast  blow  him  nearer  to  the  haven  of  his 
Saviour's  breast,  where  he  hopes  one  day  to  meet  all  his 
benefactors,  and  among  them  those  whom  he  now  addresses ! 
O  my  dear  friends,  what  shall  I  render?  What  to  Jesus? 
What  to  you  ?  May  he  who  invites  the  heavy-laden,  take 
upon  him  all  the  burdens  of  kindness  you  have  heaped 


214:  JOHN    FLETCHER. 

on  your  Lazarus !  And  may  angels,  when  you  die,  find  me 
in  Abraham's  bosom,  and  bring  you  into  mine,  that  by  all 
the  kindness  which  may  be  shown  in  heaven,  I  may  try  to 
requite  that  you  have  shown  to  your  obliged  brother, 

"  J.  F." 

In  this  second  journey  to  Italy  he  again  visited  the  city 
of  Rome,  and,  like  Paul  at  Athens,  his  spirit  was  stirred 
by  the  gross  idolatry  and  wickedness  abounding  on  every 
side.  One  day,  as  he  and  Mr.  Ireland  rode  in  a  coach,  the 
driver  informed  them  the  pope  was  approaching,  and  that 
they  would  be  required  to  come  forth  and  kneel  as  he 
passed.  They  let  the  coachman  know  that,  though  they 
were  in  Rome,  they  would  not  do  as  Rome  does.  The 
poor  fellow  was  alarmed  at  their  boldness,  and  quick  as 
possible  turned  aside  into  another  street,  and  got  out  of  the 
way.  Mr.  Fletcher  was  anxious  to  reprove  the  degrading 
man-worship  of  the  occasion,  and  would  have  done  it  if  he 
could  have  spoken  Italian.  He  was  near  attempting  it  in 
Latin,  and  was  prevented  only  by  the  consideration  that 
none  but  the  priests,  and  probably  few  of  them,  would  un- 
derstand him.  "If  you  had  done  it,"  said  a  friend  of  his 
afterward,  "  the  multitude  would  have  torn  you  in  pieces." 
"  I  believe,"  answered  Mr.  Fletcher,  "  that  the  pope  him- 
self would  have  prevented  it ;  for  he  was  a  man  of  sense 
and  humanity."  But  Mr.  Fletcher  was  a  man  of  most 
charitable  judgment ! 

From  Italy  he  went  to  Nyon,  the  place  of  his  birth, 
where  his  health  rapidly  improved,  so  that  in  a  short  time 
he  was  able  to  resume  his  beloved  work.  But  since  his 
last  appearance  among  them,  a  change  had  come  over  the 
spirit  of  the  people.  His  ministry  now  was  at  once  popu- 


JOHN    FLETCHER.  215 

lar  and  despised.  The  multitude  still  flocked  to  hear  him  ; 
but  his  word  was  too  quick  and  powerful  for  a  gay  and 
trifling  crowd,  accustomed  to  live  after  the  flesh,  without 
reproof  or  warning  from  the  pulpit.  On  one  occasion,  his 
sermon  was  directed  against  Sabbath-breaking  and  the 
theatre.  The  chief  magistrate  of  the  town  sent  for  him, 
and  sharply  reproved  him  for  what  he  took  as  a  personal 
reflection,  saying  that  he  had  just  before  engaged  a  com- 
pany of  French  comedians.  He  ordered  Mr.  Fletcher  to 
cease  from  preaching  as  long  as  he  remained  at  Nyon. 
The  order  was  obeyed  so  far  that  he  preached  no  longer  in 
the  churches,  yet  he  still  exhorted  in  private  houses,  and 
instructed  as  many  children  as  he  could  collect  under  the 
trees  and  elsewhere. 

During  his  stay  at  Nyon,  he  started  one  day  to  see  a 
minister  of  pious  renown  in  the  country.  After  walking 
several  miles,  he  saw  a  great  crowd  gathered  around  a 
door.  He  went  in  and  found  a  mother  and  her  babe  at 
the  point  of  death,  the  child  at  the  moment  being  in  vio- 
lent convulsions.  The  room  was  filled  with  people. 
"Come,"  said  Mr.  Fletcher,  "let  us  ask  the  Lord  to  save 
them."  He  kneeled,  and  prayed  with  great  fervour.  The 
child's  convulsions  instantly  ceased,  and  in  a  few  moments 
the  mother  was  "easy,  lively,  and  strong."  The  people 
stood  amazed  at  what  they  saw.  Mr.  Fletcher  quietly 
retired.  The  question  immediately  went  round,  "Who 
can  he  be  ?"  And  some  said,  "  Surely  it  was  an  angel !" 
We  know  the  risk  of  relating  this  fact.  "The  age  of  mir- 
acles is  past !"  will  be  the  cry.  But  stop.  What  is  every 
answer  to  prayer  but  a  species  of  miracle  ?  Would  it  have 
been  less  miraculous  if,  in  answer  to  Fletcher's  prayer,  the 
woman  and  her  babe  had  recovered  in  a  month  ?  Do  you 


216  JOHN    FLETCHER. 

believe  it  right  to  pray  for  the  recovery  of  the  sick  ?  If  so, 
do  you  believe  that  the  prayer  of  faith  will  save  the  sick  ? 
The  only  difference  between  this  case  and  thousands  of 
others  is,  that  John  Fletcher  prayed,  and  the  answer  came 
sooner  than  usual. 

Mr.  Fletcher  returned  from  Switzerland  to  Madeley  in 
1781.  His  health  was  so  fully  recovered  that  he  resumed 
the  duties  of  his  parish  with  a  zeal  that  had  grown  warmer 
on  the  borders  of  the  grave.  He  was  now  fifty-two  years 
of  age.  This  year  he  married  Mary  Bosanquet,  of  York- 
shire— a  lady  of  some  fortune,  sound  understanding,  and 
ardent  piety.  She  was  exactly  ten  years  younger  than  he. 
Imbued  with  his  own  spirit,  she  proved  an  invaluable  assist- 
ant to  his  ministry,  and  in  every  respect  a  helpmate  worthy 
of  so  great  and  good  a  man.  But  the  time  of  their  union 
was  short — but  three  years  and  nine  months.  The  severe 
labour  he  imposed  upon  himself  exhausted  the  strength  of 
his  renewed  constitution,  and  brought  him  to  the  gate  of 
death.  In  the  last  year  of  his  life  he  wrote  to  Mr.  Ireland 
the  following  letter,  which  Southey  praised  for  its  beauty, 
and  which  every  Christian  reader  will  feel  to  be  more  than 
beautiful : — 

"  Surely  the  Lord  keeps  us  both*  in  slippery  places,  that 
we  may  still  sit  loose  to  all  below.  Let  us  do  so  more  and 
more,  and  make  the  best  of  those  days  which  the  Lord 
grants  us  to  finish  the  work  he  has  given  us  to  do.  O  let 
us  fall  in  with  the  gracious  designs  of  his  providence,  trim 
our  lamps,  gird  our  loins,  and  prepare  to  escape  to  the 
heavenly  shore,  as  Paul  did  when  he  saw  the  leaky  ship 
ready  to  go  to  the  bottom,  and  made  himself  ready  to  swim 
to  the  land. 

0  Mrs.  Fletcher's  health  was  then  declining. 


JOHN   FLETCHEB.  217 

"  I  keep  in  my  sentry-box  till  Providence  remove  me ; 
my  situation  is  quite  suited  to  my  little  strength ;  I  may 
do  as  much,  or  as  little  as  I  please,  according  to  my 
weakness,  and  I  have  an  advantage  which  I  can  have 
nowhere  else  in  such  a  degree.  My  little  field  of  action 
is  just  at  my  door,  so  that  if  I  happen  to  overdo  myself, 
I  have  but  a  step  from  my  pulpit  to  my  bed,  and  from 
my  bed  to  my  grave.  If  I  had  a  body  full  of  vigour,  and 
a  purse  full  of  money,  I  should  like  well  enough  to 
travel  about  as  Mr.  "Wesley  does ;  but  as  Providence  does 
not  call  me  to  it,  I  readily  submit.  The  snail  does  best 
in  its  shell.  "Were  it  to  aim  at  galloping  like  the  race- 
horse, it  would  be  ridiculous  indeed.  I  thank  God  my 
wife  is  quite  of  my  mind  with  respect  to  the  call  we  have 
to  a  sedentary  life.  We  are  two  poor  invalids,  who,  be- 
tween us,  make  half  a  labourer.  She  sweetly  helps  me  to 
drink  the  dregs  of  life,  and  to  carry  with  ease  the  daily 
cross.  Neither  of  us  is  long  for  this  world ;  we  see  it,  we 
feel  it,  and  by  looking  at  death  and  his  Conqueror,  we  fight 
beforehand  our  last  battle,  with  that  last  enemy  whom  our 
dear  Lord  has  overcome  for  us." 

He  laboured  and  lingered  on  until  August  14, 1785,  when 
he  died.  But  what  a  death !  and  how  fitting  a  close  of 
such  a  life !  The  glorious  scene  was  preceded  by  those  pecu- 
liar manifestations  that  often  tell  good  men  that  the  hour 
of  their  last  triumph  is  nigh.  The  approach  to  the  ocean 
is  as  distinctly  intimated  by  the  refreshing  sea-winds,  as  by 
the  roar  of  the  surf,  or  the  sight  of  its  crested  waves.  Some 
weeks  before  his  last  sickness,  he  heard  the  voice  of  the 
"  faithful  and  true  Witness  "  in  a  manner  to  which  he  him- 
self had  not  been  accustomed,  saying,  Thou  shdlt  walk 
with  me  in  white.  From  that  time  he  was  constantly  im- 


JOHN    FLETCHER. 

pressed  with  the  unspeakable  nearness  of  eternity.  He  un- 
dertook no  j  ourney  without  consulting  the  will  of  God.  One 
day  on  his  knees  the  question  was,  Shall  I  go  to  London  ? 
The  answer  seemed  to  be,  Not  to  London^  but  to  thy  gra/oe. 
The  next  Sunday,  as  the  choir  sang  the  anthem,  "Yea, 
though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death," 
&c.,  the  prophetic  words  sunk  into  his  heart,  accompanied 
with  an  inexpressibly  solemn  joy.  On  the  following 
Thursday  he  took  cold,  which  was  followed  by  fever.  On 
the  following  Sunday  morning,  a  clergyman  offered  to 
relieve  him  from  the  duties  of  the  day.  He  mildly  de- 
clined the  offer,  but  went  himself  for  the  last  time.  The 
scene  at  church  is  given  in  the  admirable  words  of  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Gilpin : — 

"  He  opened  the  reading  service  with  apparent  strength ; 
but  before  he  had  proceeded  far  in  it,  his  countenance 
changed,  his  speech  began  to  falter,  and  it  was  with  the 
utmost  difficulty  that  he  could  keep  himself  from  fainting. 
Every  eye  was  riveted  upon  him,  deep  solicitude  was 
painted  on  every  face,  and  confused  murmurs  of  distress 
ran  through  the  whole  congregation.  In  the  midst  of  this 
affecting  scene,  Mrs.  Fletcher  was  seen  pressing  through 
the  crowd,  and  earnestly  entreating  her  dying  husband  no 
longer  to  attempt  what  appeared  utterly  impracticable. 
But  he,  as  though  conscious  that  he  was  engaged  in  his  last 
public  work,  mildly  refused  to  be  entreated ;  and  struggling 
against  an  almost  insupportable  languor,  constrained  him- 
self to  continue  the  service.  The  windows  being  opened, 
he  appeared  to  be  a  little  refreshed,  and  began  to  preach 
with  a  strength  and  recollection  that  surprised  all  present. 
In  the  course  of  his  sermon,  the  idea  of  his  weakness  was 
almost  lost  in  the  freedom  and  energy  with  which  he  de- 


JOHN   FLETCHER.  210 

livered  himself.  Mercy  was  the  subject  of  his  discourse; 
and  while  he  expatiated  on  this  glorious  attribute  of  the 
Deity,  its  unsearchable  extent,  its  eternal  duration,  and  its 
astonishing  effects,  he  appeared  to  be  carried  above  all  the 
fears  and  feelings  of  mortality.  There  was  something  in 
his  appearance  and  manner  that  gave  his  word  an  irresist- 
ible influence  upon  this  solemn  occasion.  An  awful  con- 
cern was  awakened  through  the  whole  assembly,  and  every 
one's  heart  was  uncommonly  moved.  Upon  the  hearts  of 
his  friends  in  particular,  a  most  affecting  impression  was 
made  at  this  season ;  and  what  deepened  that  impression 
was  the  sad  presentiment  which  they  read  in  each  other's 
countenance  of  their  pastor's  approaching  dissolution. 

"  After  sermon  he  walked  up  to  the  communion  table, 
uttering  these  words:  'I  am  going  to  throw  myself  under 
the  wings  of  the  cherubim,  before  the  mercy-seat.'  Here  the 
same  distressing  scene  was  renewed  with  additional  solem- 
nity. The  people  were  deeply  affected,  while  they  beheld 
him  offering  up  the  last  languid  remains  of  a  life  that  had 
been  lavishly  spent  in  their  service.  Groans  and  tears 
were  on  every  side.  In  going  through  this  last  part  of  his 
duty,  he  was  exhausted  again  and  again ;  but  his  spiritual 
vigour  triumphed  over  his  bodily  weakness.  After  several 
times  sinking  on  the  sacramental  table,  he  still  resumed 
his  sacred  work,  and  cheerfully  distributed  with  his  dying 
hand  the  love-memorials  of  his  dying  Lord.  In  the  course 
of  this  concluding  office,  which  he  performed  by  means  of 
the  most  astonishing  exertions,  he  gave  out  several  verses 
of  hymns,  and  delivered  many  affectionate  exhortations  to 
his  people,  calling  upon  them  at  intervals  to  celebrate  the 
mercy  of  God  in  short  songs  of  adoration  and  praise.  And 
now,  having  struggled  through  a  service  of  near  four  hours' 


220  JOHN    FLETCHER. 

continuance,  he  was  supported,  with  blessings  in  his  mouth, 
from  the  altar  to  his  chamber,  where  he  lay  for  some  time 
in  a  swoon,  and  from  whence  he  never  walked  into  the 
world  again." 

"We  cannot  relate  all  the  particulars  of  that  closing  scene. 
On  Wednesday  he  said  to  Mrs.  Fletcher,  "  O  Polly,  my 
dear  Polly,  God  is  love.  I  feel  it  every  moment.  Shout ! 
shout  aloud !  I  want  a  gust  of  praise  to  go  to  the  ends  of 
the  earth."  He  agreed  with  her  that  if  his  speech  should 
fail,  two  taps  of  his  finger  should  signify  that  God  is  love. 
One  of  the  domestics  came  in  just  at  that  moment.  He 
cried  out,  "  O  Sally,  God  is  love !  Shout !  both  of  you.  I 
want  to  hear  you  shout  his  praise."  His  speech  began  to 
fail  on  Thursday.  His  wife  spoke  to  him  of  his  severe  suf- 
ferings. He  smiled,  and  gave  the  sign.  She  repeated  John 
Wesley's  words : — 

"Jesus'  blood,  through  earth  and  skies, 
Mercy,  free  boundless  mercy  cries." 

He  whispered,  "Boundless!  boundless!  boundless!"  And 
then  added,  from  the  same  hymn, 

"Mercy's  full  power  I  soon  shall  prove, 
Loved  with  an  everlasting  love." 

On  Saturday  some  one  said  to  him,  "Do  you  think  the 
Lord  will  raise  you  up  ?"  He  had  just  enough  strength  to 
answer,  "  Eaise  me  up  in  the  resurr — "  Sunday  came — to 
him  the  beginning  of  an  eternal  Sabbath.  It  was  known 
through  the  village  that  he  was  dying.  A  deep  gloom 
rested  on  the  place.  Families  sat  in  silence  that  day.  The 
poor  from  a  distance,  his  own  loved  poor,  wanted  to  see  him 
again.  The  room-door  was  thrown  open.  Mournfully, 
one  by  one,  they  passed  before  it,  and  took  a  last  lingering 


JOHN     FLETCHER.  221 

look  at  that  venerable  countenance.  When  his  speech  was 
quite  gone,  Mrs.  Fletcher  said  to  him,  "  If  the  prospect  of 
glory  sweetly  open  before  thee,  lift  up  thy  right  hand." 
He  raised  it  up  three  times,  when  it  fell  back  and  moved 
no  more.  We  give  the  rest  in  the  words  of  Mr.  Gilpin, 
who  was  present : — 

"  All  was  silence  when  the  last  angelic  minister  suddenly 
arrived,  and  performed  his  important  commission  with  so 
much  stillness  and  secrecy  that  it  was  impossible  to  deter- 
mine the  exact  moment  of  its  completion.  Mrs.  Fletcher 
was  kneeling  by  the  side  of  her  departing  husband ;  one 
who  had  attended  him  with  uncommon  assiduity  during 
the  last  stages  of  his  distemper,  sat  at  his  head ;  while  I 
sorrowfully  waited  near  his  feet.  Uncertain  whether  or 
not  he  was  totally  separated  from  us,  we  pressed  nearer, 
and  hung  over  his  bed  in  the  attitude  of  listening  attention ; 
his  lips  had  ceased  to  move,  and  his  head  was  gently  sink- 
ing upon  his  bosom — we  stretched  out  our  hands,  but  his 
warfare  was  accomplished,  and  the  happy  spirit  had  taken 
its  everlasting  flight." 

So  died  the  Hev.  John  Fletcher.  We  shall  not  attempt 
to  draw  his  character.  He  did  that  himself  when  he  wrote 
the  "Portrait  of  St.  Paul."  Like  Eve,  gazing  in  Eden's 
lake,  he  saw  his  own  image — admired,  loved,  and  described 
it,  but  knew  not  that  it  was  a  picture  of  himself.*  This 
brief  sketch,  however,  would  be  incomplete  without  the 
well-chosen  words  of  one  who  never  flattered  the  living, 
nor  unduly  praised  the  dead.  At  the  Conference  held 
shortly  after  Mr.  Fletcher's  decease,  the  usual  question  was 
asked,  "  Who  have  died  this  year?"  The  laconic  answer 
was  given  in  Mr.  Wesley's  words : — "  John  Fletcher, — a 

0  Paradise  Lost,  Book  IV. 


JOHN    FLETCHER. 

mem  of  all  holiness,  scarce  to  be  paralleled  in  a  century" 
After  this,  Mr.  Wesley  wrote  again  :• — "  I  was  intimately- 
acquainted  with  him  for  thirty  years.  I  conversed  with 
him  morning,  noon,  and  night,  without  the  least  reserve, 
during  a  journey  of  many  hundreds  of  miles ;  and  in  all 
that  time  I  never  heard  him  speak  an  improper  word,  nor 
saw  him  do  an  improper  action.  Within  fourscore  years  I 
have  known  many  excellent  men,  holy  in  heart  and  life ; 
but  one  equal  to  him  I  have  not  known — one  so  uniformly 
and  deeply  devoted  to  God.  So  unblameable  a  man  in 
every  respect,  I  have  not  found  either  in  Europe  or  Amer- 
ica. Nor  do  I  expect  to  find  another  such  on  this  side 
of  eternity." 

It  is  reported  as  a  saying  of  Richard  Baxter's,  that  his 
hope  of  heaven  grew  brighter  at  the  thought  of  dwelling 
forever  in  the  society  of  John  Hampden.  We  have  no 
censure  for  the  fond  affection  that  expects  the  renewal  of 
special  friendships  among  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  per- 
fect ;  and  while  it  is  given  us  to  hope  for  a  union  with  the 
general  assembly,  we  may  anticipate  a  keener  joy  in  seeing 
those  we  most  admire,  whether  they  were  known  to  us  per- 
sonally, or  only  as  historic  names.  Substituting  Fletcher 
for  Hampden,  we  have  a  thousand  times  sympathized  in 
the  joy  of  Baxter's  hope.  For  sixty- eight  years  Fletcher's 
body  has  reposed  in  Madeley  churchyard,  awaiting  the  call 
of  the  archangel's  trumpet.  It  has  long  been  a  cherished 
wish  of  our  heart,  that  the  day  may  come,  when,  as  a  pil- 
grim from  the  western  world,  we  shall  see  the  house  in 
which  he  lived,  the  church  in  which  he  preached,  and, 
kneeling  upon  his  grave-stone,  thankfully  adore  the  Eternal 
Spirit,  who  gave  such  a  light  to  the  eighteenth  century,  and 
such  an  example  to  the  remainder  of  the  Christian  age. 


SOT   (SARUETTSOST. 


ON  a  beautiful  bold  bluff,  which  extends  into  the  Chesa- 
peake Bay,  still  stands  a  venerable  dwelling,  whose  quaint 
little  bricks  exhibit  not  only  the  age  in  which  they  were 
made,  but  their  European  origin.  The  dwelling  was 
erected  by  Garrett  Garrettson,  the  great  grandfather  of 
the  REV.  FREEBOKN  GABBETTSON,  and  the  first  of  the  family 
who  emigrated  to  this  country;  and  well  had  he  chosen 
the  place  of  his  abode.  On  one  side,  the  Susquehanna 
poured  its  noble  waters  into  the  broad  bay,  which,  on  the 
other,  was  seen  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach ;  while  many 
a  point  of  land  projecting  into  it  gave  grace  and  variety 
to  the  landscape. 

Rutland  Garrettson,  the  only  son  of  Garrett  Garrettson, 
was  married  to  Elizabeth  Freeborn,  an  English  lady,  who 
was  also  an  only  child,  and  thus  the  name  borne  by  so 
many  of  their  descendants  was  introduced.  They  had  a 
numerous  family  of  sons  and  daughters,  who  were  after- 
ward all  settled  near  this  first  home  of  their  father.  The 
plantations  of  five  of  the  brothers  lay  side  by  side  in  a 
part  of  Harford  County,  still  known  as  the  Garrettson 
Forest ;  and  side  by  side  in  the  old  Spesutia  church  stood 
their  antiquated  pews. 

John  Garrettson,  who  was  one  of  these  brothers,  married 


224  FEEEBORN    GAKRETTSON. 

Sarah  Hanson;  she  died  when  the  subject  of  this  memoir 
was  quite  young,  leaving  five  sons  and  several  daughters. 
Though  Mr.  Garrettson  never  again  married,  his  family 
remained  unbroken,  and  his  children  were  brought  up  in 
those  principles  of  integrity  and  virtue  by  which  they 
were  afterward  characterized.  Of  the  good  order  that 
obtained  in  his  father's  family,  the  Rev.  Freeborn  Garrett- 
son often  spoke,  remarking,  among  other  things,  that  he 
had  never  heard  a  profane  word  spoken  in  his  father's 
house,  either  by  children  or  servants. 

The  means  of  education  were  limited  in  that  day,  yet 
Mr.  Garrettson  endeavoured  to  supply  the  deficiency  to  his 
children  by  engaging  teachers  who  resided  with  him,  and 
taught  his  own  and  his  brothers'  children ;  and  thus  from 
the  age  of  eight  until  seventeen,  Freeborn,  his  third  son, 
was  kept  at  school — obtained  a  good  English  education, 
began  to  study  Latin  and  French,  but  preferring  the 
"  exact  sciences,"  abandoned  the  study  of  languages  and 
devoted  himself  more  exclusively  to  them.  "  I  was,"  says 
he,  "  so  drawn  out  in  these  studies,  particularly  astronomy, 
that  I  spent  hours  alone,  both  by  night  and  by  day,  until 
my  school-fellows  began  to  laugh  at  me."  Grave,  sedate, 
and  thoughtful  from  his  early  boyhood,  beloved  by  his 
friends,  esteemed  by  his  teachers,  with  no  stain  on  his 
moral  character,  the  beautiful  youth  stood  in  the  opinion 
of  all  as  a  rare  example  of  Christian  virtue;  and  when 
the  Spirit  of  God  showed  him  his  real  condition,  and 
in  the  bitterness  of  his  heart  he  sought  by  multiplied 
observances  to  find  peace  and  safety,  it  is  not  at  all  sur- 
prising that  in  their  darkened  state  they  counted  him 
as  mad. 

The  minister  of  "  old  Spesutia,"  in  whom  he  had  trusted, 


FRKEBOKN    GARRETTSON.  225 

could  give  him  no  direction ;  lie  had  already  gone  a  step 
beyond  his  guide,  and  left  him  for  those  who,  pointing  to 
the  cross  of  Christ,  could  bid  him  cast  his  burden  there — 
for  those  who  could  speak  of  the  knowledge  of  sins  for- 
given, and  urge  him  to  walk  in  the  light  of  God's  coun- 
tenance. 

Though  only  twenty  years  of  age,  he  was  intrusted  with 
the  management  of  his  father's  plantation,  and  had,  also, 
frequent  land  surveys  to  make;  yet  he  found  time  to 
attend  all  the  means  of  grace  in  his  neighbourhood,  and 
was  "instant  in  prayer  and  supplication."  He  was  often 
"ravished  by  the  sweet  drawings  of  heavenly  love,  and 
again  he  sank  back  into  doubt  and  despondency.  As 
months  passed,  his  worldly  anxieties  increased.  His  father's 
death  left  him  burdened  with  the  care  of  a  family,  and 
executor  to  the  estate.  At  length,  after  several  years  of 
almost  Pharisaic  strictness,  which,  however,  could  by  no 
means  allay  the  deep  thirst  of  his  soul,  he  made  the 
surrender  of  his  heart  to  God.  He  was  riding  home  from 
church  on  "Whitsunday-night"  when  it  was  made:  there 
was  a  fearful  struggle.  "  I  felt,"  says  he,  "  Satan  on  my 
left,  the  good  Spirit  on  my  right."  The  one  contrasted  the 
world  and  its  allurements,  prosperity  in  business,  a  good 
name,  honest  renown,  with  that  which  a  proud  man  likes 
least  to  incur — obloquy,  shame,  distrust,  the  averted  glance 
of  friends,  the  open  taunt  of  enemies ;  while  the  blessed 
Spirit  of  grace  impressed  upon  his  heart  the  ponderous 
realities  of  eternity,  and  demanded  an  instant  decision. 
The  crisis  had  arrived.  Dropping  the  bridle,  he  clasped 
his  hands  and  exclaimed,  in  the  fulness  of  his  heart, 
"Lord,  I  will  part  with  all,  and  become  an  humble 
follower  of  thee !" 

15 


226  FKEEBOKN    GARBETTSON. 

"A  guilty,  weak,  and  helpless  worm, 

Into  thine  arms  I  fall; 
Be  thou  my  strength  and  righteousness, — 

My  Jesus,  and  my  all  I" 

In  that  instant  his  soul  was  filled  with  joy  and  peace, 
the  "peace  of  God,  which  passeth  understanding."  Nature 
seemed  in  that  solemn  solitary  place  to  unite  with  him  in 
highest  jubilee.  "The  stars,"  said  he,  "seemed  like  so 
many  seraphs  going  forth  in  their  Maker's  praise."  As 
he  approached  his  home  the  servants,  hearing  the  sound 
of  his  rejoicing,  ran  out  to  meet  him,  and  to  ask  what  was 
the  matter.  "I  called  the  family  together  for  prayer," 
said  he,  "  for  the  first  time,  but  my  prayer  was  turned  to 
praise."  It  was  a  few  days  after  this,  that,  as  he  stood  up 
to  give  out  a  hymn  at  family  worship,  the  moral  evil  of 
slavery  was  impressed  on  his  mind,  and  with  a  willing 
heart  he  responded,  "  Lord,  the  oppressed  shall  go  free ;" 
and,  turning  to  the  astonished  negroes,  he  proclaimed  their 
liberty,  and  promised  a  just  compensation  for  any  services 
they  might  render  him  in  future ;  and  "  my  mind  was  as 
clear  of  them,"  said  he,  "  as  if  I  had  never  owned  them." 

And  now  the  expansive  principle  of  Christianity  im- 
planted in  his  heart  impelled  him  to  labour  for  the  salva- 
tion of  others.  From  house  to  house,  despite  of  trials  and 
temptations,  of  buffetings  without  and  fears  within,  he 
went,  first  to  the  homes  of  his  friends,  in  one  of  which  he 
left  a  dear  cousin  "under  deep  awakening,"  in  another  a 
brother  "groaning  for  redemption  in  Jesus,"  at  another 
brother's  twenty  seeking  their  soul's  salvation.  He  soon 
saw  all  his  brothers  added  to  the  Lord,  Methodist  preach- 
ing established  among  them,  and  a  society  of  thirty  formed 
and  placed  under  the  care  of  the  circuit  preacher.  Of 


FREEBOKN    G ARRETT SON.  227 

these  first  fruits  of  Iris  labours,  two,  if  not  more,  were 
added  to  the  ministry — his  brother  Richard  and  his  cousin 
Freeborn  Garrettson.  "Well  was  it  that  the  Lord  set  the 
broad  seal  of  his  approbation  to  the  labours  of  his  young 
servant.  Though  strong  were  his  temptations  and  heavy 
his  cross,  yet  on  he  went — now  to  the  quarter  of  the  negro, 
now  to  the  domicil  of  the  master,  bearing  his  message  of 
love.  What  mattered  it  that  his  name  was  cast  out  as 
evil — that  insults  and  sometimes  blows  awaited  him — that 
the  doors  of  some  who  had  loved  him  best  were  closed 
against  him,  when  his  Saviour  so  filled  his  soul  with  joy 
that  ofttimes,  like  St.  Paul,  he  scarcely  knew  whether  he 
was  "  in  the  body"  or  "  out  of  the  body?"  Before  the  parson 
and  the  vestry,  as  before  other  companies  of  men,  the 
Lord  filled  his  mouth  with  arguments,  while  the  sweetness 
of  his  spirit  often  turned  the  lion  into  the  lamb.  The 
poor  blacks!  how  they  must  have  hailed  the  new  light 
that  dawned  upon  them — how  blessed  the  only  power  that 
could  rescue  them  from  degradation,  and  make  them 
kings  arid  priests  unto  God ! 

It  would  surpass  the  limits  of  this  sketch  were  I  to 
dilate  on  the  severe  exercises  which  preceded  his  entrance 
into  the  ministry.  To  become  a  Methodist  preacher  in 
that  day,  was  to  abandon  all  that  the  world  holds  dear — 
ease,  honour,  wealth,  home,  and  the  social  relations  which 
'make  home  so  sweet :  and  all  were  abandoned  when,  weak 
and  almost  fainting  under  the  severity  of  the  struggle,  he 
rose  from  his  bed,  left  his  house,  rode  to  Baltimore,  where 
the  Conference  was  in  session,  and  gave  his  name  (which 
he  had  often  been  solicited  to  do)  as  a  member  of  the 
Church  and  Conference.  Still  the  cross  was  almost  insup- 
portable; and  when  he  returned  to  his  lodgings,  he  fainted 


228  FUEEBOKN    GAKKETTSON. 

under  a  deep  sense  of  responsibility,  and  an  humbling  view 
of  his  own  unfitness  for  so  great  a  work.  On  recovering 
lie  found  himself  surrounded  by  his  brethren :  his  soul  was 
filled  with  a  foretaste  of  heavenly  bliss — a  baptism  for  the 
arduous  service  on  which  he  had  entered. 

The  field  of  his  labours  for  the  next  nine  years  lay  in 
Delaware,  Maryland,  Virginia,  and  North  Carolina.  He 
went  forth  "  weeping,  bearing  precious  seed,"  and  came 
again  "with  rejoicing,"  having  gathered  many  sheaves. 
There  was  another  warfare  waging  at  this  time  which  often 
threatened  interruption  to  his  labours :  he  could  not  take 
the  oath  of  allegiance  proffered  him  in  Virginia,  first 
because,  though  from  the  beginning  his  feelings  had  been 
enlisted  in  behalf  of  his  country,  his  mind  was  not  yet 
clear  as  to  the  lawfulness  of  resistance;  secondly,  because 
the  oath  was  so  worded  as  to  bind  him  "  to  take  up  arms 
whenever  called  upon,"  &c.  He  "felt  no  disposition  to 
use  carnal  weapons."  For  the  arrest  and  imprisonment 
with  which  he  was  menaced  he  was  not  careful,  but  left 
himself  and  his  cause  in  the  hands  of  One  who  would  make 
all  things  work  together  for  good.  Under  this  date,  Vir- 
ginia, 177Y,  he  says:  "The  more  I  am  despised  and  perse- 
cuted the  happier  my  soul  is,  the  larger  my  congregations, 
and  the  more  my  labours  are  blessed."  How  often  during 
these  years  did  he  realize  the  promise  of  our  Lord,  "  Every 
one  that  forsaketh  houses,  or  brethren,  or  sisters,  or  father, 
or  mother,  or  children,  or  lands,  for  my  name's  sake,  shall 
receive  a  hundred-fold,  and  shall  inherit  everlasting  life." 
How  many  homes  were  open  to  the  way-worn  wanderer  ! 
How  many  kind  friends  greeted  him  as  a  son  and  brother ! 
"  Even  treated  more  like  a  son  than  a  stranger,  more  like  an 
angel  than  a  poor  clod  of  earth,"  is  an  entry  in  his  diary. 


FBEEBORN     OAKKETT8ON. 

Sometimes  these  beloved  friends  would  have  allured 
him  from  his  appointed  work  by  their  kindness.  "  Abide 
with  us,  and  we  will  do  thee  good,"  was  their  language. 
To  him,  however,  who  had  laid  his  all  on  the  altar,  these 
temptations  only  added  other  victories  to  those  already 
won.  He  says,  under  date  of  June,  1777:  "The  people 
here  wanted  to  ruin  me  with  their  kindness.  The  tempta- 
tion was  strong.  Satan  began  to  lay  a  hundred  schemes 
to  entrap  me,  in  order  that  my  usefulness  might  be  hindered. 
The  thing  itself  was  pleasing  to  nature,  to  live  at  ease,  with 
an  abundance  of  what  the  world  calls  good,  and  the  pros- 
pect of  doing  good  withal!  World,  away  with  thy  flat- 
tery !  I  can  rejoice  in  my  God  with  the  testimony  of  a 
conscience  void  of  offence,  knowing  that  the  oblation  is 
made  for  the  sake  of  Christ's  Church,  whom  he  purchased 
with  his  own  blood,  being  convinced  that  I  can  do  more 
good  in  wandering  up  and  down  the  earth  without  any 
encumbrance.  As  for  the  riches  of  the  world  I  have 
enough  to  serve  my  turn.  It  is  no  time  to  think  of  lands, 
or  houses,  &c.  I  passed  on,  rejoicing  in  God  my  Saviour." 

Preaching  from  one  to  four  times  daily,  often  beset  by 
enemies  to  the  cross  of  Christ  who  testified  their  animosity 
by  deed  as  well  as  word,  besought  by  friends  not  to  expose 
himself,  how  must  the  heart  of  the  youthful  disciple  have 
longed  for  rest!  It  was  just  after  he  had  resisted  the 
importunity  of  his  more  prudent  friends  that  he  met  one 
of  those  ruffians  who  sometimes  bear  a  title  only  to  dis- 
grace it.  After  several  threats,  finding  that  he  could  not 
intimidate  Mr.  Garrettson,  he  commenced  a  furious  assault, 
in  which  he  commanded  his  servants  to  engage,  and  ended 
it  only  when  his  victim  lay  senseless  on  the  ground.  A 
woman  providentially  passed  by  with  a  lancet,  who  had 


230  FKEEBOBN     GAKRETTSON. 

him  removed  to  the  nearest  house  and  bled  him.  What  a 
scene  that  cottage  presented!  The  young  minister  just 
awaking  from  his  trance,  but  not  able  to  rise,  his  face 
wounded  and  bleeding,  but  radiant  with  a  joy  that  he 
could  scarcely  contain,  believing  himself  near  the  eternal 
world,  and  ravished  by  the  view  which  faith  presented,  yet 
pausing  to  pray  for  his  murderer  and  to  guide  him  to  the 
way  of  safety  ;  the  poor  persecutor,  frightened  at  the  effect 
of  his  passion,  either  pacing  the  room  with  agitated  steps, 
or  sitting  beside  his  victim  and  reading,  by  his  direction, 
passage  after  passage  of  Holy  "Writ.  Mr.  Garrettson,  in 
after  life,  when  speaking  of  this  assault,  said :  "  Brown  was 
a  small  man,  and  I  was  strong  and  agile ;  in  a  contest  I 
could  have  overpowered  him."  But  it  was  not  by  conflict 
or  by  violence  that  Christianity  won  its  trophies  either  in 
the  first  or  the  eighteenth  century. 

This  constant  warfare  with  the  powers  of  darkness  gave 
to  the  countenance  of  those  dear  servants  of  God  a  solem- 
nity and  elevation  of  character  which  sometimes  awakened 
the  careless  when  no  word  was  spoken.  "  My  first  convic- 
tion, when  a  boy,"  said  an  eminent  Presbyterian  divine, 
"was  received  from  observing  Mr.  Garrettson  as  he  was 
walking  by — there  was  something  so  holy,  so  heavenly,  in 
his  expression,  that  I  was  strongly  impressed  with  the  truth 
of  religion." 

Such  were  the  men  that  kindled  a  flame  through  the 
length  and  breadth  of  our  country.  Had  the  world  seen 
their  like  since  apostolic  days?  The  Keformers,  though 
bold  in  the  cause  of  truth,  were  full  of  asperity ;  here 
courage  was  tempered  by  meekness  and  love. 

The  life  of  the  itinerant,  however,  was  not  wholly  marked 
by  toil  and  trial.  Green  spots  there  were  in  the  path  of 


FKEEBORN     GARRETTSON.  231 

his  pilgrimage — "sweet  resting  bowers,"  where  the  weary 
might  repose  beside  the  still  waters — delectable  mountains 
where  sweet  counsel  might  be  taken  and  new  strength 
imbibed.  Such  a  spot,  among  many  others,  was  the  house 
of  Henry  Airey,  Esq.  When  being  conducted  to  the  prison 
at  Cambridge,  by  a  mob,  it  was  this  devoted  friend  who 
accompanied  him ;  and  when  the  mob  was  dispersed  by  a 
remarkable  flash  of  lightning,  and  the  two  friends  were  left 
to  themselves,  how  cheerfully  the  light  of  that  home 
gleamed  in  the  distance !  What  sweet  communion  did  its 
inmates  enjoy  when,  gathered  together  around  its  ample 
hearth,  they  talked  of  all  that  befell  them  by  the  way !  The 
next  day  was  to  bring  its  trouble,  but  that  they  left  to  God. 
When  the  morrow  came,  and  the  prison-life  was  a  reality, 
it  was  still  to  that  dear  friend  he  owed  his  earthly  solace ; 
it  was  to  him  he  owed  the  comforts  which  made  confine- 
ment less  irksome.  "  No  weapon  that  was  formed  against 
him  prospered."  Fire-arms  pointed  at  him  dropped  harm- 
lessly from  the  hands  that  held  them.  Mobs  raged  around 
him,  but  had  no  power  to  injure.  Committals  were  writ- 
ten, but  left  unexecuted.  Even  in  the  exceptions  to  these 
escapes  God  brought  abundant  good  out  of  the  unjust 
infliction,  and  many  heard  the  gospel  from  his  prison  win- 
dows who  might  not  have  heard  it  otherwise. 

Just  as  Mr.  Garrettson  was  preparing  to  go  to  Charles- 
ton, S.  C.,  Dr.  Coke  arrived,  with  full  power  to  organize  a 
Church.  Mr.  Wesley  had  "been  for  many  years  con- 
vinced that  bishops  and  presbyters  are  the  same  order, 
and  consequently  have  the  same  right  to  ordain,"  but  had 
hitherto  refused  to  exercise  it  "  for  peace' sake ;"  now,  how- 
ever, that  America  had  achieved  her  independence,  and 
was  untrammelled  either  by  Church  or  State,  he  deemed  it 


232  FREEBORN     GARRETTSON. 

a  duty  to  assume  the  right,  and  accordingly,  in  conjunc- 
tion with  several  other  ministers  of  the  English  Church, 
ordained  the  Rev.  Messrs.  Whatcoat  and  Vasey  elders,  and 
set  apart  Dr.  Coke,  already  a  presbyter,  to  the  office  of 
superintendent  of  the  American  work. 

"Like  an  arrow"  from  the  bow,  Mr.  Garrettson  went 
from  North  to  South  to  summon  the  preachers  to  attend  the 
Christmas  Conference,  to  be  held  in  Baltimore,  Dec.,  1784. 
He  travelled  twelve  hundred  miles  in  six  weeks,  preaching 
often  as  he  went.  At  that  Conference  he  was  ordained,  and 
from  thence  he  went  as  a  volunteer  to  ISTova  Scotia. 

For  two  years  this  indefatigable  minister  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  ceased  not  to  preach  the  word  in  that  cold  inhospita- 
ble region;  traversing  its  mountains  and  valleys,  often  on 
foot,  with  his  knapsack  on  his  back,  he  threaded  Indian 
paths  in  which  it  was  not  expedient  to  take  a  horse ;  some- 
times waded  through  morasses,  his  hunger  satisfied  by  no 
dainty  morsel,  his  thirst  slaked  at  some  babbling  brook, 
his  weary  limbs  rested  on  a  couch  of  leaves.  But  God 
blessed  his  labours  abundantly :  many,  many  souls  were 
added  to  the  Lord ;  chapels  were  built,  but  were  too  small 
to  contain  the  crowds  who  pressed  to  hear  the  word. 
Hearts  and  homes  were  open  to  receive  him,  and  though 
sometimes  "  stones  flew,"  and  a  heavy  one  was  "  aimed  at 
his  head,"  they  passed  close  by  without  injuring  him ;  and 
he  remarks,  "This  is  but  trifling,  if  I  can  win  souls  to 
Jesus." 

At  the  Conference  in  Baltimore,  May  7th,  1787,  Dr. 
Coke,  by  the  direction  of  Mr.  "Wesley,  proposed  to  appoint 
Mr.  Garrettson  superintendent  of  the  work  throughout  the 
British  provinces  in  America.  The  question  was  taken, 
and  he  was  unanimously  elected  to  that  office.  On  mak- 


FKEEBORN     GAKBETTSON.  233 

ing  this  election  known  to  Mr.  Garrettson,  he  said  that  he 
would  take  one  year  to  visit  the  field  thus  tendered,  and,  if 
acceptable  to  the  people,  he  would  return  to  the  next  Con- 
ference and  be  consecrated  for  the  office.  Letters  of  com- 
mendation to  the  "West  India  Islands,  &c.,  &c.,  were  writ- 
ten; but  when  his  name  was  read  off  the  next  day,  it  was 
not  as  missionary  bishop  to  the  British  provinces,  but  as 
Presiding  Elder  of  the  Peninsula,  where  he  had  formerly 
laboured  so  successfully.  And  he  never  inquired  into  the 
reason  of  the  change,  but  went,  followed  by  the  deep 
regrets  of  his  Nova  Scotia  friends.  The  storm  of  persecu- 
tion and  war  had  ceased — a  flood-tide  of  prosperity  and 
popularity  bore  him  onward.  It  was  a  rest  of  spirit  he 
had  fairly  earned — a  short  rest,  for  the  next  Conference 
appointed  him  presiding  elder  over  a  new  and  unsettled 
field  in  New- York.  Methodism,  previous  to  this  time, 
(1788,)  had  travelled  no  higher  up  than  New-Rochelle. 
Mr.  Garrettson's  new  district  comprised  the  country  lying 
between  New-Rochelle  and  Lake  Champlain,  and  extended 
from  the  Eastern  States  to  "Whitestown,  near  Utica.  Before 
Mr.  Garrettson  left  Conference,  such  light  seemed  to  illu- 
minate his  path  that  he  was  enabled  to  allot  to  each  of  the 
young  men  whom  the  Conference  had  placed  at  his  disposal 
his  appropriate  field  of  labour,  and  to  fix  the  time  and 
place  of  their  several  quarterly  meetings.  How  little  did 
he  imagine,  as  he  set  out  on  his  journey  northward,  the 
important  bearing  that  this  station  would  have  upon  his 
future  happiness !  It  was  in  1789,  while  Mr.  Garrettson 
was  at  Poughkeepsie,  that  a  servant-man  inquired  for  him, 
bearing  his  master's  compliments,  and  an  invitation  to  visit 
Rhinebeck.  The  invitation  was  accepted,  and  Mr.  Gar- 
rettson went  to  the  house  of  Thomas  Tillotson,  Esq.,  where 


23i  FREEBORN     GARRETT8ON. 

he  was  received  with  kindness  and  hospitality.  Mr.  Til- 
lotson  was  from  Maryland,  and  had  heard  much  of  Mr. 
Garrettson  in  his  native  state.  Preaching  was  established 
and  a  class  of  two  formed,  of  which  Miss  Catharine  Livings- 
ton (afterward  Mrs.  Garrettson)  was  one.  Miss  Livingston 
had  experienced  religion  several  years  before,  had  been 
much  edified  by  Mr.  Wesley's  Works,  and  was  already  a 
Methodist  in  doctrine  and  affection,  when  Methodist  preach- 
ing was  so  unexpectedly  supplied.  Mr.  Garrettson  received 
from  these  friends  introductory  letters  to  other  branches  of 
the  family,  who  also  received  him  with  great  kindness. 

Such  was  his  first  reception  into  the  family  of  which  he, 
several  years  afterward,  became  a  member.  He  believed 
that  his  union  with  Miss  Livingston  was  divinely  appointed ; 
and  from  that  event  the  social  happiness  he  so  nobly  relin- 
quished at  the  commencement  of  his  ministry  became  his 
in  no  common  degree. 

Mr.  Garrettson  took  this  district  in  1788,  and  left  it  in 
the  spring  of  1793.  The  membership  during  that  time  had 
increased  from  ten  to  upwards  of  two  thousand  five  hun- 
dred. In  1793  he  was  appointed  to  the  Philadelphia  Dis- 
trict, where  he  spent  the  first  year  of  his  wedded  life. 
The  next  year  he  was  returned  as  Presiding  Elder  of  the 
Dutchess  District,  and  settled  at  Rhinebeck,  about  four 
miles  from  the  Hudson. 

This  first  dwelling  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Garrettson  was  a 
very  humble  one,  well  suited  to  their  narrow  income. 
Salary  there  was  none — for  Mr.  Garrettson  would  never 
lessen  the  stipend  his  brethren  received  by  accepting  his 
own  proportion.  His  patrimony  during  those  years  of 
deep  devotion  to  a  better  service  had  suffered  loss,  though 
it  had  still  been  sufficient  for  his  moderate  wants.  Mrs. 


FKEEBORN     GAKRETTSON.  235 

Garrettson's  income  was  also,  at  that  time,  a  very  limited 
one ;  so  that  their  experience,  during  the  first  six  years  of 
married  life,  was  more  in  unison  with  that  of  their  brethren 
than  has  been  generally  supposed.  But  their  home, 
though  lowly,  was  a  bright  and  cheerful  one.  Peace  and 
contentment,  hospitality  and  love  made  it  such ;  and  when, 
in  1800,  its  inmates  left  it  for  a  larger  and  more  convenient 
abode,  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson,  many  tears  were  shed 
as  a  tribute  to  the  hours  of  sweet  enjoyment  passed  beneath 
its  roof. 

Mr.  Asbury's  impression,  on  first  visiting  the  new  abode 
of  his  friend,  is  recorded  in  these  few  pithy  words :  "  He 
hath  a  beautiful  land  and  water  prospect,  and  a  good, 
simply  elegant,  useful  house,  for  God,  his  people,  and  the 
family."  Perhaps,  to  make  this  description  of  the  good 
bishop  more  just,  the  word  elegant  should  have  been 
obliterated.  Certain  it  is  that  no  article  of  the  furniture  or 
dress  of  these  dear  friends,  to  whom  he  paid  an  annual 
visit,  wounded  his  almost  ascetic  conscience.  When  this 
house  was  raised,  God's  blessing  was  invoked,  and  an 
answer  of  peace  given;  when  finished  and  consecrated, 
God's  power  was  most  manifestly  felt.  For  twenty-seven 
years  it  was  the  resting-place  of  Mr.  Garrettson;  his 
labours  ceased  only  with  his  life.  He  continued,  with  few 
intervals,  to  exercise  the  office  of  presiding  elder  until 
1815  ;  after  this  he  travelled  at  large,  visiting  the  Churches 
among  whom  he  had  formerly  laboured,  rejoicing  every- 
where to  preach  Christ  and  him  crucified.  He  was  deeply 
interested  in  the  missionary  and  educational  interests 
of  our  Church.  His  anxiety  for  the  establishment  of 
societies  for  these  purposes  was  ever  in  advance  of  his 
brethren;  his  pleasure  when  they  were  established,  and 


236  FKEKBOKN     GABRETTSON. 

the  zeal  with  which  he  asserted  their  claim  to  public 
patronage,  partook  more  of  the  fervour  of  youth  than  the 
cool  sobriety  of  age.  To  all  charities,  indeed,  he  con- 
tributed to  the  extent  of  his  ability — his  moderate  income, 
like  his  house,  was  "  for  God,  his  people,  and  the  family." 
His  public  obligations  never  interfered  with  his  private 
duties ;  the  same  love  which  prompted  him  to  seek  sinners 
in  the  highways  and  hedges,  shed  a  hallowing  influence  over 
his  home.  He  was  a  devoted  husband,  a  tender  father,  an 
affectionate  brother,  a  beneficent  uncle.  All  claims  were 
properly  adjusted.  His  discipline  was  so  tempered  by  love 
that  the  rule  of  the  house  was  always  felt  to  be  both  kind 
and  just.  Ever  more  ready  to  commend  than  censure, 
with  a  judgment  that  seldom  erred,  the  right  way  was 
made  the  pleasant  way  as  well  as  the  way  to  please. 
Seldom,  perhaps,  has  the  master  of  a  household  been  more 
loved  and  honoured.  He  rarely,  if  ever,  rebuked  any  one 
of  his  family  in  public.  Were  there  evils  to  be  corrected, 
a  private  interview  was  sought  at  some  suitable  time 
which  should  most  avoid  observation;  plain,  affectionate 
conversation  was  concluded  by  prayer,  and  the  culprit 
came  from  that  private  interview  loving  his  reprover  with 
a  more  ardent  affection,  and  manifested  by  his  conduct,  for 
months  to  come,  how  deeply  it  had  impressed  him.  The 
ruffled  brow  of  care  was  smoothed,  discordant  tempers 
harmonized,  and  a  new  spirit  infused.  !No  one  knew,  by 
word  or  hint  from  the  master  of  the  household,  that 
reproof  had  been  administered ;  but  a  quiet  smile  passed 
around  as  the  settled  demeanour  and  the  cheerful  alacrity 
of  the  delinquent  was  noted.  Such  was  the  paternal  influ- 
ence that  he  exercised  in  that  sweet,  tranquil  abode  up  to 
the  last  hour  of  his  stay  in  it. 


FREEBORN     GARRETT8ON.  237" 

On  Friday,  the  17th  of  August,  1827,  he  left  home  in 
his  usual  health,  expecting  to  spend  the  Sabbath  in  New- 
York,  and  to  return  the  following  Monday  or  Tuesday. 
On  Sunday  morning  he  preached  his  last  sermon,  in 
Duane-street  Church,  and  administered  the  sacrament ;  on 
Sunday  evening  he  went  to  the  same  church,  though  he  did 
not  preach.  After  a  fatiguing  day,  on  Monday  he  came 
to  the  house  of  his  friend,  George  Suckley,  Esq.  He  ap- 
peared to  the  family  to  be  in  unusual  health  and  spirits,  and 
sat  up  beyond  his  usual  hour,  although  he  intended  to  take 
the  boat  at  six  o'clock.  That  night,  however,  he  was  seized 
with  his  last  agonizing  disorder,  and,  after  passing  several 
days  of  intense  pain  and  extreme  danger,  he  abandoned 
the  thought  of  returning  home,  and  sent  for  his  wife  and 
daughter  to  come  down  to  him.  The  following  passages, 
copied  from  letters  written  immediately  after  his  death, 
will  best  detail  the  closing  scenes  of  his  life  : — 

"  On  our  arrival  we  were  told  that  the  crisis  of  his  dis- 
ease had  been  favourably  passed,  and  that,  though  linger- 
ing, there  was  every  prospect  of  his  ultimate  recovery. 
But,  though  we  suffered  our  judgment  to  be  led  captive  by 
our  wishes  even  to  the  last,  no  hopes  of  that  kind  were 
ever  implanted  in  his  mind.  His  sufferings  were,  at  times, 
unutterable  ;  but  through  them  all  were  manifested  a  resig- 
nation and  fortitude  no  agony  could  destroy.  '  I  shall  be 
purified  as  by  fire ;'  'I  shall  be  made  perfect  through 
suffering ;'  '  It  is  all  right,  all  right ;  not  a  pain  too  much,' 
he  would  often  say.  As  he  descended  into  the  dark  valley, 
his  views  of  the  grandeur  and  efficacy  of  the  atonement 
became  more  and  more  enlarged.  His  disorder  inclined 
him  latterly  to  slumber,  and  he  was  often  delirious ;  but 
even  then  the  same  subject  was  the  theme  of  his  dis- 


238  FBEEBOBN     QAKKETT8ON. 

course.  Toward  the  last,  his  strength  was  so  much  ex- 
hausted that  articulation  became  a  painful  effort;  but 
we  would  often  hear  him  say,  '  I  want  to  go  home ;  I 
want  to  be  with  Jesus,  I  want  to  be  with  Jesus.'  To 
a  friend,  who  asked  him  how  he  was,  he  said,  'I  feel 
the  perfect  love  of  God  in  my  soul.'  A  day  or  two 
before  his  departure  I  heard  him  say, '  And  I  shall  see  Mr. 
Wesley  too.'  It  seemed  as  if  he  were  contemplating  the 
enjoyment  of  that  world  upon  the  verge  of  which  he  then 
was — enjoyments  which  he  said  a  Christian  might  well 
understand,  as  they  began  in  his  heart  even  in  this  life. 
His  mind  was  employed  with  subjects  for  the  sweetest 
emotions  of  love  and  adoration.  When  asked  how  he  did, 
he  would  answer,  'I  feel  love  and  good- will  to  all  man- 
kind,' or,  '  I  see  a  beauty  in  all  the  works  of  God ;'  forget- 
ting that  the  infirmities  of  his  body  had  been  the  subject 
of  inquiry.  His  last  sentence  was, '  Holy,  holy,  holy,  Lord 
God  Almighty!  Hallelujah!  hallelujah!'  After  that, 
though  he  lingered  many  hours,  he  could  not  speak  articu- 
lately. Once  only,  clasping  his  hands  and  raising  his  eyes 
to  heaven,  he  uttered,  '  Glory  !  glory !' 

"  When  the  hour  arrived  in  which  his  spirit  was  to  achieve 
its  last  great  victory,  we  all  kneeled  around  the  bed,  and 
Mr.  Levings,  in  a  manner  and  in  language  of  which  I  can 
never  give  you  an  idea,  commended  his  spirit  to  its  Father 
and  its  God.  You  would  have  imagined  that  he  really 
saw  the  chariot  and  the  horsemen  which  were  sent  to 
convey  the  father  and  the  patriarch  to  his  reward ;  and  as 
fervently  did  he  implore  that  the  mantle  might  fall — as 
triumphantly  did  he  resign  him.  And  as  he  prayed,  my 
dear  mother,  stretching  forth  her  hands  as  if  she  felt  the 
immediate  presence  of  God,  exclaimed,  '  Yes,  Lord,  we  do 


FREEBOEN     GAREETTSON.  239 

resign  him  !  freely  resign  him  !  "We  give  him  up  to  thee !  - 
He  is  thine;  receive  his  spirit!'  Mr.  Levings  ceased 
praying:  there  was  a  pause,  and  in  that  pause  the  spirit 
departed.  And,  as  if  our  united  prayer  was  answered,  and 
the  mantle  did  descend,  such  a  divine  influence  pervaded 
the  apartment  that  two  of  the  preachers  almost  sunk  to 
the  floor,  under  a  glorious  sense  of  His  presence  who 
filleth  immensity.  The  spirit  departed,  leaving  the  body 
impressed  with  the  sweetest  expression  of  peace  and  tran- 
quillity— an  expression  which  it  retained  until  the  moment 
when  it  was  shrouded  from  human  observation.  "We  could 
stand  beside  those  dear  remains,  and  imagine  that  their 
appearance  of  renewed  youth  and  happiness  was  a  pledge 
of  that  glorious  resurrection,  when  '  death  shall  be  swal- 
lowed up  in  victory,'  and  the  'mortal  put  on  immor- 
tality.' 

"Thus,  as  a  ripe  shock  of  corn,  he  was  gathered  into  the 
garner  of  his  God,  in  the  seventy-sixth  year  of  his  age  and 
the  fifty-second  of  his  itinerant  ministry.  He  ended  his 
useful  life  at  the  house  of  his  long-tried  friend,  George 
Suckley,  Esq.,  in  the  city  of  New- York,  about  two  o'clock 
in  the  morning  of  the  26th  of  September,  1827."* 

His  remains  were  conveyed  to  his  own  residence,  accom- 
panied by  his  family  and  many  sympathizing  friends;  and 
soon  after,  followed  by  a  large  concourse  of  people,  they 
were  deposited  in  the  rear  of  that  church  where  he  had  so 
often  explained  the  word  of  life. 

In  so  brief  a  memoir,  it  would  have  been  impossible  to 

give  more  than  an  outline  of  the  character  and  labours  of 

this  useful  and  laborious  servant  of  the  Lord.     In  treating 

of  the  former,  I  have  endeavoured  to  place  in  bold  relief 

°Dr.  Bangs. 


240  FBEEBOKN     GARRETT8ON. 

those  features  which  have  hitherto  escaped  notice.  His 
singleness  of  view,  his  brotherly  kindness,  his  perfect  guile- 
lessness,  his  activity,  his  zeal,  and  his  piety,  have  all  been 
dwelt  upon  by  others.  I  wished  to  dilate  upon  his  social 
character — to  show  him  as  a  husband,  a  father,  and  a  pa- 
triot ;  but  the  limits  assigned  me  are  passed. 

His  labours  speak  for  themselves.  He  was  one  of  the 
most  efficient  agents  in  building  up  a  Church  to  spread 
Scriptural  holiness  throughout  the  land.  When  he  joined 
it,  there  were  but  nineteen  travelling  ministers,  and  three 
thousand  one  hundred  and  twenty -eight  members ;  when 
he  died,  the  ministry  numbered  one  thousand  five  hundred 
and  seventy-six,  and  the  membership  three  hundred  and 
eighty-one  thousand  nine  hundred  and  ninety-seven.  He 
rests  from  his  labours,  and  his  works  do  follow  him. 


_*         *       <*   ' 

*     ' 


!UT!E  .PRESMENT  OF  TIHHS  WIBK1T.1HTAW  lONWEffiSlCET  ES'SJ^SSXfWN   CTo 


(join i it ur  list.* 


FISK  was  born  at  Brattleboro',  in  the  State  of 
Vermont,  on  the  thirty-first  day  of  August,  1792.  His 
ancestors  were  of  the  old  Puritan  stock,  and  maintained 
the  virtues  and  piety  of  that  peculiar  people.  His  father, 
Isaiah  Fisk,  was  stripped  of  his  patrimony  by  unfortunate 
business  connexions,  and  compelled  to  seek  a  residence  in 
the  wilder  and  less  cultivated  portions  of  the  state.  He 
accordingly  removed  to  Lyndon,  within  about  forty  miles 
of  the  Canada  line,  where  he  resided  respected  and 
beloved  by  all  who  knew  him.  He  filled  important  legis- 
lative and  judicial  offices,  and  discharged  the  duties  they 
imposed  with  severe  virtue  and  untarnished  honour.  The 
region  of  country  in  which  he  resided  after  the  birth  of 
his  son  "Willbur,  is  described  as  being  peculiarly  adapted 
to  excite  emotions  of  beauty  and  sublimity.  "  The  house 
is  situated  on  a  considerable  eminence,  overlooking  a  wide 
extent  of  country.  Around  it  the  tops  of  the  hills  are 
seen  peering  one  above  another,  like  the  caps  of  the  ocean 
billows  in  a  gale ;  while,  at  the  distance  of  forty  miles,  are 
discerned  the  summits  of  the  White  Mountains  of  New- 

0  This  memoir  has  been  chiefly  compiled  from  Dr.  Holdich's  Life  of 
Willbur  Fisk,  and  extracts  not  otherwise  noted  are  to  be  accredited  to 
that  work. 

16 


WILLBUR    FI8K. 

Hampshire,  soaring  majestically  till  their  heads  are  lost  in 
the  clouds." 

Born  of  such  ancestry,  and  reared  amid  scenes  like 
these,  Willbur  Fisk  in  early  life  was  impressed  with  a 
reverence  for  God,  and  an  appreciation  of  the  beauty  and 
sublimity  of  his  works.  "  He  would  wander  off  by  him- 
self for  hours,  traversing  the  woods,  climbing  the  hills,  or 
tracing  the  windings  of  the  rivulet.  There  is  one  spot  on 
the  farm  which  was  a  favourite  resort.  It  is  the  summit 
of  a  sloping  hill,  perhaps  two  hundred  feet  high,  termi- 
nating on  one  side  precipitously,  and  crested  with  a  lovely 
grove."  Here  he  often  wandered  with  his  book,  deriving 
instruction  from  its  pages  and  inspiration  from  the  sur- 
rounding scene. 

His  mother,  whose  maiden  name  was  Willbur,  was  dili- 
gent in  impressing  the  great  principles  of  Christianity 
upon  the  minds  of  her  children.  "  She  took  them  early 
and  constantly  to  church,  made  it  a  particular  business  to 
read  to  them  the  word  of  God,  required  them  to  learn 
their  Catechism,  and  commit  texts,  hymns,  and  prayers  to 
memory.  She  had  the  happy  art,  too,  of  rendering  these 
things  more  a  pleasure  than  a  burden.  According  to 
their  capacity,  she  was  almost  constantly  stimulating  them 
to  thought  and  inquiry  by  her  conversation  with  them. 
Both  parents  were  exemplary  in  the  observance  of  the 
Sabbath.  They  regarded  it  as  a  day  strictly  set  apart  for 
religious  uses,  and  hence  the  time  not  spent  in  public 
worship  was  occupied  in  family  instruction.  Yet  their 
piety  was  so  mild  and  cheerful,  and  their  household 
governed  with  such  uniform  consistency,  that  the  Sabbath 
was  far  from  being  a  dull  or  gloomy  day."  Such  training 
necessarily  produced  a  happy  effect  upon  the  family  circle. 


WILLBUR    FISK.  243 

Young  Willbur  was  naturally  of  strong  temper,  passionate 
and  self-willed ;  but  the  influence  of  his  religious  training 
was  felt  at  a  very  early  age.  He  says  of  himself,  referring 
to  a  period  when  he  was  not  more  than  five  years  of  age, 
"  Often  I  have  watered  my  pillow  with  my  tears  for  the 
sins  I  had  committed,  and  frequently  have  I  feared  to 
sleep  lest  I  should  awake  in  misery."  It  is  not  remark- 
able, therefore,  that  when,  in  his  eleventh  year,  the  family 
was  bereaved  by  the  loss  of  an  infant,  he  should  be  deeply 
impressed  by  the  solemn  event.  "  Standing  by  the  side  of 
the  corpse,  he  said  to  his  sister  Mary,  '  How  good  God  is 
to  us !  He  has  taken  our  little  brother  away  who  needed 
no  conversion ;  but  he  has  given  us  time  to  repent.'  "  We 
are  told  that  his  convictions  of  sin  now  became  deep,  his 
faith  in  Christ  clear,  and  the  change  in  his  feelings  deep 
and  obvious.  He  was  soon  after  admitted  on  probation  in 
the  Methodist  Church,  and  gave  indications  of  future  use- 
fulness. None  of  those  who  heard  his  first  attempts  at 
public  prayer,  and  in  the  relation  of  his  experience  in 
class-meeting  and  love-feast,  were  unprepared  for  his 
future  eminence  and  success. 

His  mental  discipline  and  culture  were,  however,  at  this 
time,  in  not  so  favourable  a  condition.  His  mind  had 
been  awakened  to  the  importance  of  education,  and  he 
manifested  great  eagerness  in  the  acquisition  of  knowl- 
edge, frequently  rising  at  three  or  four  o'clock  in  the 
morning  to  pursue  his  studies  before  the  family  were  up. 
He  carried  a  book  in  his  pocket  to  beguile  the  leisure 
moments,  and  the  selections  he  made  would  seem  to 
have  been  judicious;  for,  when  it  was  proposed  to  intro- 
duce Smellie's  Philosophy  of  Natural  History  into  the 
course  of  studies  at  Middletown,  he  remarked,  "I  first 


^4:4:  AVILLBUK    FISK. 

read  that  book  while  attending  a  lime-kiln  on  my 
father's  farm." 

But  his  advantages  were  limited  to  such  books  as  were 
within  his  reach ;  for,  from  the  time  he  was  seven  years  of 
a<re  until  he  was  sixteen,  he  attended  school  not  more 

O  ' 

than  two  or  three  years.  Speaking  of  this,  he  says  of 
himself,  "Thus  the  best  part  of  my  time  for  literary 
instruction  was  lost ;  a  loss  I  shall  always  regret,  as  it  can 
never  be  made  up.  I  always  consider  three  years  of  my 
life  as  little  better  than  thrown  away.  It  is  true,  during 
these  years  I  read  a  great  number  of  authors,  which 
served  to  enlarge  my  ideas  of  men  and  things ;  but  as  I 
had  none  to  direct  my  studies,  and  as,  from  the  scarcity  of 
good  books,  I  had  but  little  opportunity  of  exercising  even 
my  own  j  udgment  in  a  choice,  my  reading  was  very  desul- 
tory, and,  in  many  instances,  very  unprofitable." 

In  1809  he  went  to  a  grammar-school  at  Peacham, 
about  twenty  miles  from  Lyndon.  He  seems  to  have 
impressed  his  associates  and  friends  by  the  dignity  of  his 
demeanour  and  his  zeal  in  study.  But  while  here  he 
relaxed  the  strictness  of  his  devotional  exercises,  lost  the 
fervour  of  his  religious  zeal,  and  became,  we  are  told,  as 
worldly  and  ambitious  as  his  associates. 

In  1812  he  entered  the  Sophomore  class  in  the  Uni- 
versity of  Vermont.  Soon  after,  the  war  with  England 
occasioned  an  interruption  in  the  duties  of  the  insti- 
tution,— the  college  buildings  were  occupied  by  troops, — 
and  we  find  Fisk  in  1814  a  student  of  Brown  University, 
at  Providence,  Rhode  Island.  His  college  companions 
soon  recognised  his  abilities  as  a  student.  The  faculty 
which  he  always  displayed  of  thinking  closely  and  express- 
ing himself  clearly  in  extemporaneous  debate  made  him  a 


WILLBTJR    FI8K.  245 

popular  champion  among  them,  and  led  even  his  instruc- 
tors to  anticipate  the  brilliant  successes  he  afterward 
so  triumphantly  achieved.  He  graduated  with  honour 
in  1815. 

"We  now  approach  a  period  in  his  history  that  is  full  of 
interest.  His  parents  had  always  indulged  the  hope  that 
he  would  devote  himself  to  the  work  of  the  ministry. 
Their  deep  piety  and  lofty  views  of  the  dignity,  import- 
ance, and  usefulness  of  the  Christian  ministry,  naturally 
led  them  to  desire  that  a  son  of  theirs  should  fill  the 
sacred  desk,  while  the  devotion  and  success  of  their 
Willbur  in  early  life  gave  them  ground  to  hope  that 
God  would  call  him  to  the  sacred  work.  He  himself 
had  indulged  similar  views;  but  now  that  the  time  of 
action  had  arrived,  he  found  himself  without  the  deep- 
toned  piety  he  felt  to  be  requisite.  His  studies  while 
in  college,  as  well  as  his  predilection,  were  turned  toward 
political  life,  a  field  in  which  one  of  his  associates 
at  Peacham,  the  Hon.  Thaddeus  Stevens,  has  since 
gained  distinction.  He  had,  however,  much  disquietude 
of  mind,  and  the  thought  of  decision  was  painful.  Receiv- 
ing a  favourable  offer  from  the  Hon.  Isaac  Fletcher,  he 
entered  his  office  in  Lyndon,  and  commenced  the  study  of 
law.  This  he  pursued  with  the  indefatigable  perseverance 
which  always  characterized  him,  but  he  had  many  mis- 
givings as  to  his  true  destiny.  His  father  still  cherished 
the  hope  that  his  religious  emotions  would  be  kindled 
anew,  and  that  he  "would  feel  that  woe  that  St.  Paul 
speaks  of  if  he  preached  not  the  gospel."  And  his  mother 
said,  that "  while  Willbur  was  aiming  at  becoming  a  distin- 
guished statesman,  I  was  all  the  time  praying  that  he 
might  be  made  a  minister." 


AVI  LI, BUR     FI8K. 

Meanwhile  his  collegiate  course  had  involved  both  his 
father  and  himself  in  expense,  which  made  it  necessary 
for  him  to  seek  profitable  employment,  and,  on  the  recom- 
mendation of  the  President  of  Brown  University,  he 
became  a  private  tutor  in  the  family  of  Col.  Ridgely,  at 
Oaklands,  near  Baltimore,  Md.  Here  most  of  his  time  was 
spent  in  solitude,  and  in  the  colonel's  well-stored  library, 
the  anxiety  of  his  mind  increasing  rather  than  diminish- 
ing, and  his  health  gradually,  but  perceptibly  failing. 
From  his  youth  he  had  been  subject  to  a  dry  cough,  and 
now  violent  symptoms  of  pulmonary  disease  manifested 
themselves,  resulting  in  copious  hemorrhage  from  the 
lungs.  By  the  advice  of  his  physician  he  returned  home, 
having  to  delay  on  the  way  thither  to  gather  strength  for 
the  different  portions  of  the  journey.  On  reaching  home, 
he  found  the  Church  enjoying  a  remarkable  outpouring 
of  the  Holy  Spirit.  In  the  midst  of  this  work  his  early 
enjoyments  and  blessings  were  fearfully  contrasted  with 
his  present  condition,  and  the  associations  of  former  years 
returned  with  renewed  force.  He  was  deeply  affected, 
and  his  distress  so  impressed  one  of  the  ministers  in  attend- 
ance that  years  afterward  he  said:  "I  shall  never  forget 
it,  for  the  impression  is  as  vivid  in  my  mind  as  it  was 
when  I  saw  the  tears  flowing  down  his  emaciated  cheeks." 
In  this  state  of  mind  he  continued  several  days,  until  he 
laid  hold  by  faith  upon  One  "  mighty  to  save  and  strong 
to  deliver." 

And  now  the  idea  of  the  ministry  returned  with  renewed 
force  upon  his  mind,  and  "the  love  of  Christ  constrained 
him."  He  was  opposed  by  his  old  friends,  who  had  looked 
forward  to  his  eminence  at  the  bar  or  in  political  life  as 
certain;  but,  though  taunted  and  ridiculed,  he  found  the 


WILLBUK    FI8K.  247 

call  of  God  stronger  than  the  appeals  of  men,  and  fully 
committed  himself  to  the  work.  He  did  not  enter  upon 
it  rashly,  or  without  consideration ;  before  his  reclamation 
it  had  been  the  subject  of  thought  and  prayer;  and  when 
he  found  himself  renewed  in  the  strength  of  God,  he  had 
no  difficulty  in  settling  the  question.  In  1838  he  addressed 
the  Preachers'  Aid  Society  of  the  city  of  Baltimore,  and 
though  the  writer  of  this  brief  sketch  was  but  thirteen 
years  of  age,  he  well  remembers  the  deep  interest  that  the 
rehearsal  of  his  experience  awakened.  It  was  given  as  a 
dialogue  between  a  young  man  and  his  Divine  Master,  in 
which  his  objections  are  stated  and  answered: — 

Christ.  Go,  preach  my  gospel. 

Answer.  But,  Lord,  I  have  other  engagements. 

Christ  You  are  not  your  own ;  you  are  bought  with  a 
price. 

Ans.  But,  Lord,  I  have  been  preparing  myself  for 
another  profession ;  I  have  been  struggling  for  an  educa- 
tion ;  I  have  high  prospects  before  me,  &c. 

Christ.  What  have  you  that  you  have  not  received  ? 

Ans.  Lord,  I  have  strong  domestic  feelings,  and  I  hope 
one  day  to  have  a  family  of  my  own. 

Christ.  He  that  loveth  houses  or  lands,  wife  or  children, 
more  than  me,  is  not  worthy  of  me. 

Ans.  Lord,  I  have  aged  parents,  and  I  am  an  only 
son:  filial  love  and  duty  require  that  I  should  look  after 
them. 

Christ.  He  that  loveth  father  or  mother  more  than  me 
is  not  worthy  of  me. 

Ans.  Lord,  is  there  no  excuse?   May  not  another  answer? 

Christ.  The  gifts  and  callings  of  God  are  without 
repentance. 


24$  WILLBTB    FISK. 

Ans.  At  least,  let  me  first  stop  and  bury  my  father  and 
mother. 

Christ.  Let  the  dead  bury  their  dead. 

Ans.  At  any  rate,  I  must  wait  awhile  and  acquire  some 
property. 

Christ.  He  that  putteth  his  hand  to  the  plough  and 
looketh  back,  is  not  fit  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

Ans.  Lord,  I  cannot  go. 

Christ.  Woe  unto  you  if  you  preach  not  the  gospel. 

Ans.  Lord,  wilt  thou  not  pity  a  poor  helpless  wretch 
who  begs  for  an  excuse  as  one  would  plead  for  life  ? 

Christ.  Ye  know  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
that  though  he  was  rich,  for  your  sakes  he  became  poor, 
that  ye  through  his  poverty  might  be  made  rich. 

"Here,"  said  Dr.  Fisk,  "the  dialogue  ended;  the  young 
man  covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  and  bursting  into 
tears,  cried,  '  Nay,  but  I  yield !  I  yield !'  The  bond  was 
signed  and  sealed,  and  the  youth  was  consigned  over,  body 
and  soul,  to  the  Church.  The  next  thing  I  saw  of  him  he 
was  threading  a  pathless  forest  among  the  Green  Moun- 
tains bordering  upon  the  Canada  line,  driving  his  horse 
before  him  because  of  the  roughness  of  the  wilderness, 
cheerful  as  an  angel  on  an  errand  of  mercy.  And  I  heard 
his  song,  with  which  he  made  the  ragged  mountain-tops 
that  hung  over  his  path  reverberate;  and  what,  sir,  do 
you  think  it  was? 

"  'Nothing  on  earth  I  call  my  own — 
A  stranger  to  the  world  unknown, 

I  all  their  goods  despise  ; 
I  trample  on  their  whole  delight, 
And  seek  a  city  out  of  sight, 

A  city  in  the  skies.'  " 


WILLBUR    FI8K. 

From  this  time  we  find  him  entirely  djevoted  to  the  work 
of  the  ministry.  His  first  appointment  was  Craftsbury 
Circuit.  He  laboured  here  two  years  with  zeal  and  suc- 
cess, and  an  incident  occurred  during  his  residence  here 
that  displays  the  self-possession  and  coolness  for  which  he 
was  so  distinguished.  "A  lady  at  whose  house  he  often 
stayed,  was  unfortunately  subject  to  temporary  fits  of 
insanity.  During  one  of  these  attacks,  she  one  day  rushed 
to  him  with  a  large  sharp-pointed  butcher's  or  carving- 
knife  in  her  hand.  Persons  who  were  present  saw  it  and 
trembled.  Stepping  hastily  up  to  Mr.  Fisk,  she  tore  open 
his  vest  and  shirt-bosom  ere  he  was  aware,  and  placing 
the  sharp  point  to  his  skin,  said,  "You  must  die.  You 
talk  so  much  of  heaven,  I  am  going  to  send  you  there. 
You  are  too  good  to  live."  Without  quailing  in  the  least, 
he  looked  her  calmly  and  steadily  in  the  face.  She  paused 
for  some  time,  when,  removing  the  instrument,  she  said, 
"  You  are  fit  to  live  or  die.  We  want  such  men  on  earth, 
so  I  will  let  you  live  a  little  longer,"  and  immediately  left 
the  apartment. 

At  the  Lynn  Conference  of  1819,  he  was  appointed  to 
Charlestown,  Mass.  He  went  there  under  much  depres- 
sion; but  the  blessing  of  God  attended  him,  and  not  only 
made  him  the  instrument  of  much  good  to  others,  but  his 
own  personal  experience  was  deepened  and  enlarged. 
His  religious  emotions  acquired  a  degree  of  intensity  and 
elevation  never  before  enjoyed  by  him.  His  whole  con- 
versation, correspondence,  and  pulpit  efforts  glowed  with 
the  rich  fulness  of  the  blessing  of  the  gospel  of  peace. 

The  following  "resolutions,  entered  into  for  the  better 
improvement  of  time,"  are  given  here  not  only  to  show 
the  secret  of  his  success  and  strength,  but  also  in  the  hope 


250  WILLBUK    FISK. 

that  they  may  excite  others  to  do  likewise.  They  bear 
date  June  30th,  1819. 

"1.  I  am  resolved,  so  far  as  I  can  effect  it,  to  retire  at 
nine,  and  rise  at  five. 

"2.  I  will  appropriate  one  hour  to  my  morning  devo- 
tions. 

"  3.  I  will  allow  one  hour  for  breakfast,  family  devotion, 
and  such  incidental  circumstances  as  may  demand  my 
attention. 

"  -i.  I  will  write  each  day  two  hours. 

"  5.  I  will  spend  two  hours  each  day  in  some  regular 
scientific  or  literary  study,  which  I  shall  adopt  from  time 
to  time. 

"  6.  I  will  spend  one  hour  in  miscellaneous  reading. 

"7.  One  hour  for  my  devotions  at  noon,  and  one  for 
dinner. 

"  8.  One  hour  each  day  in  preparing  my  discourses  for 
the  Sabbath. 

"  9.  The  remainder  of  the  day  to  visiting. 

"10.  Whenever  I  am  constrained  from  any  cause  to 
break  in  upon  my  regular  course,  I  will  endeavour,  as 
much  as  possible,  to  prevent  any  loss  of  time  by  returning 
to  it  as  soon  as  may  be,  and  will  then  attend  to  such 
branches  that  my  judgment  dictates  will  be  the  most 
improper  to  neglect ;  at  all  times  remembering  not  to  cur- 
tail my  devotions  and  my  preparations  for  the  Sabbath." 

These  rules  regulated  his  life  while  he  continued  in 
active  ministerial  service. 

During  the  second  year  of  his  ministry  at  Charlestown, 
he  sank  under  the  multiplicity  and  fervour  of  his  labours, 
and  was  compelled  to  desist  from  active  exertion.  He 
generally,  if  not  always,  preached  without  notes,  and 


WILLBTTB    FI8K.  251 

warmly  recommended  this  practice.  But  his  sermons  were 
always  studied  with  great  care,  and  many  of  them  give 
evidence  of  elaborate  preparation.  His  aim  in  preaching 
was  evidently  to  "  commend  himself  to  every  man's  con- 
science in  the  sight  of  God."  His  style  was  polished,  and 
his  delivery  earnest,  chaste,  and  impressive  in  an  unusual 
degree.  He  was  an  original  thinker,  deep  and  accurate. 
We  have  heard  some  of  his  discourses  described  as  too 
abstruse  for  the  multitude;  but  these  must  have  been 
exceptional  occasions,  his  general  style  being  perspicuous, 
and  his  subjects  adapted  to  the  wants  of  the  people.  He 
addressed  himself  to  the  audience.  "On  one  occasion, 
while  preaching  with  great  enlargement  on  the  final  judg- 
ment, a  man  rose  as  in  a  frenzy,  stamped  upon  the  floor, 
and,  with  a  horrible  oath,  rushed  out  of  the  house."  A 
remark  he  made  to  a  friend  with  reference  to  a  discourse 
in  which  he  had  felt  particular  interest,  seems  to  be  char- 
acteristic of  his  general  manner.  He  said,  "  It  seemed  as  if 
my  mouth  was  filled  with  arguments  suited  to  the  tone  of 
feeling  then  excited  in  the  people.  There  was  weeping 
throughout  the  house,  and  a  solemn  awe  seemed  to  rest 
upon  the  people." 

The  letters  written  during  this  period  of  affliction  show, 
that  though  disabled  for  the  pulpit,  he  still  had  the  interest 
of  his  flock  deeply  at  heart.  It  was  a  period  of  great 
religious  prosperity  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  he  felt  the 
restraint  of  his  physical  weakness  deeply ;  yet  his  soul  was 
comforted  by  the  reflection,  that  if  he  could  not  move  for- 
ward with  successful  warriors,  he  could  pray  for  their  success. 

At  the  New-England  Conference  of  1822,  he  was 
ordained  elder  and  returned  superannuated,  which  rela- 
tion he  held  but  one  year,  and  the  next  year  he  was  made 


252  WILLBTTK    FISK. 

presiding  elder  of  the  Vermont  district;  and  though  he 
was  much  younger  than  the  class  of  men  usually  selected 
for  this  office,  he  met  its  responsibilities  and  discharged  its 
duties  with  eminent  success. 

He  was  one  of  the  delegates  to  the  General  Conference 
of  1824,  and  was  the  author  of  the  chaste,  beautiful,  and 
appropriate  reply  to  the  address  of  the  British  Conference. 

At  the  session  of  the  Conference  in  1826  he  was  recog- 
nised as  the  Principal  of  the  Wesleyan  Academy  at  Wil- 
braham,  an  institution  which  was  already  greatly  indebted 
to  him  for  its  position  and  prospects.  His  duties  here 
were  onerous  and  multiplied.  The  school  was  new,  the 
assistants  inexperienced,  and  the  plan  novel ;  but  his  edu- 
cation and  natural  talents  admirably  qualified  him  for  the 
post.  He  well  knew  that  without  religion  schools  of  learn- 
ing were  likely  to  become  nurseries  of  vice,  and  he  com- 
menced his  career  as  an  instructor  of  youth  by  uniting  the 
lessons  of  piety  with  those  of  wisdom,  and  consequently 
but  few  terms,  if  any,  elapsed  while  he  was  at  the  head 
of  this  academy  without  a  revival  of  religion.  His  biog- 
rapher gives  the  following  sketch  of  his  mode  of  inter- 
course with  the  students : — "  He  believed  that  in  order  to 
secure  dignity  of  conduct  and  manliness  of  character,  it  is 
necessary  to  inspire  the  youth  with  self-respect.  To  pro- 
duce, therefore,  in  his  mind  a  feeling  of  inferiority,  he 
thought  highly  prejudicial.  Hence  he  ever  treated  stu- 
dents, not  as  boys,  but  as  young  gentlemen.  He  addressed 
them  as  such.  He  put  on  no  magisterial  airs.  Though 
strict  as  a  disciplinarian,  yet,  by  always  treating  the 
students  with  respect,  he  taught  them  in  return  to  respect 
themselves  and  him.  He  never  demanded  any  marks  of 
courtesy  or  formal  expressions  of  reverence.  He  thought 


WILLBUK     FI3K.  258 

it  better  to  leave  this  to  the  promptings  of  private  feeling, 
believing  that,  if  the  sentiments  and  feelings  of  the  student 
were  properly  trained,  such  expressions  of  respect  as 
urbanity  demands,  or  custom  sanctions,  would  be  spon- 
taneously given,  provided  the  teacher's  own  demeanour 
were  such  as  to  call  them  forth;  but,  in  the  absence  of 
these,  the  enforcement  of  respect  by  statute,  or  the  formal 
demand  of  it,  would  only  create  an  empty  parade,  or 
perhaps  awaken  a  spirit  of  resistance,  more  fatal  to  the 
authority  of  a  teacher  than  negative  rudeness." 

Actuated  by  such  motives,  and  governed  by  such  prin- 
ciples of  action,  he  acquired  the  confidence  of  the  patrons 
and  the  affection  of  the  students  of  the  school,  and  made 
a  deep  and  lasting  impression  upon  the  minds  of  all  with 
whom  he  was  associated. 

He  was  a  delegate  to  the  General  Conference  of  1828, 
and  in  the  same  year  was  elected  to  the  office  of  bishop 
of  the  Canada  Conference.  In  1829  he  received  the  title 
of  Doctor  of  Divinity,  was  elected  President  of  Lagrange 
College,  also  professor  in  the  University  of  Alabama ;  and 
his  services  were  solicited  by  many  important  organiza- 
tions which  made  lucrative  offers  to  secure  him.  All  these 
offers  were  declined  on  account  of  the  interest  he  felt  for 
the  great  subject  of  education  among  the  Methodists  of 
New-England,  which  was  now  to  become  the  chief  busi- 
ness of  his  life. 

In  all  the  questions  of  moment  and  importance  which  at 
that  time  claimed  the  attention  of  the  Church,  he  took  an 
active  interest,  devoting  his  energies  largely  to  the  mission- 
ary, Bible,  and  tract  cause,  and  to  the  great  subject  of  tem- 
perance. His  frequent  and  protracted  labours  made  deep 
inroads  upon  his  bodily  strength  and  awakened  a  deep  con- 


WILL  BUB     FISK. 


cern  in  the  minds  of  his  friends ;  but  a  conversation  that 
took  place  between  him  and  his  wife,  after  his  return  from 
the  General  Conference  of  1828,  will  show  how  they 
affected  his  own  mind.  "Mrs.  Fisk  expressed  her  fears 
that  his  late  exertions  would  lay  the  foundation  of  some 
fatal  malady.  His  answer  was,  '  I  hope  not ;  after  resting 
I  shall  be  better.  I  have,  to  be  sure,  been  called  to  make 
great  exertions  in  behalf  of  the  Church.  I  have  done  it 
conscientiously  and  from  a  sense  of  duty ;  and,'  added  he, 
raising  his  eyes  full  in  her  face  with  an  expression  she  had 
never  seen  in  his  countenance  before, '  my  dear  wife,  if  my 
exertions  could  only  be  the  means  of  uniting  the  Church, 
I  am  willing  my  life  should  be  the  sacrifice.' "  He  was 
not  called  to  lay  down  the  weapons  of  warfare,  however, 
until  he  had  accomplished  much  more  for  the  good  of  the 
Church  and  the  world. 

In  1830  he  was  elected  President  of  the  Wesleyan  Uni- 
versity, which  post  he  filled  till  the  day  of  his  death. 
Although  he  had  taken  an  active  part  in  the  enterprise  of 
founding  the  institution,  yet  when  called  to  assume  the 
responsibilities  of  the  more  intimate  relation  of  President, 
he  did  it  with  hesitation.  Two  considerations  seem  to 
have  influenced  him.  "  One  of  these  was  a  desire  that  in 
the  contemplated  institution  some  arrangement  might  be 
made  for  the  benefit  of  the  sons  of  his  brethren  in  the 
ministry,  few  of  whom,  on  account  of  the  expense,  could 
enjoy  the  advantages  of  a  liberal  education.  The  other 
was  the  necessity  of  some  more  efficient  measures  for  the 
education  of  young  men  who  might  be  called  to  the  work 
of  foreign  missions ;  for  it  was  evident  that  the  arrange- 
ments of  the  Church  for  the  improvement  of  the  domestic 
ministry  must  be  very  inadequate  to  the  wants  of  the 


WILLBUR     FI8K.  255 

foreign  work."  Arrangements  were  made  by  which  in 
December  he  left  the  institution  with  which  he  had  been 
connected  at  "Wilbraham,  to  enter  immediately  upon  the 
duties  of  his  new  situation  at  Middletown.  While  arrang- 
ing his  plans  for  the  financial  affairs  of  the  University,  he 
enjoyed  a  brief  interval  of  rest  from  the  perplexing  care 
and  toil  to  which  he  had  been  subjected.  It  was,  how- 
ever, of  short  duration.  Completing  his  arrangements,  he 
entered  immediately  upon  the  business  of  collecting  funds 
for  the  support  of  the  new  institution.  The  task  was  a 
discouraging  one,  and  the  difficulties  connected  with  its 
performance  had  their  effect  upon  his  spirits,  although 
they  could  not  weaken  his  resolution.  After  an  unpleasant 
journey  from  Springfield  to  Hartford,  on  his  way  to  New- 
York,  he  writes  to  Mrs.  Fisk : — 

"  What  success  I  shall  have  in  New-York  is  very  prob- 
lematical, but  I  must  go  and  do  what  I  can.  ...  I  rather 
dread  engaging  in  these  conflicts  with  selfishness  and 
covetousness ;  but  when  I  get  well  engaged,  I  can  drive 
on  with  pretty  good  courage.  I  sometimes  ask  myself, 
Am  I  never  to  be  done  with  these  new  enterprises?  To 
be  always  pushing  up  hill  is  hard  work,  but  I  suppose  I 
must  tug  on.  Perhaps  if  I  have  any  appropriate  place  in 
the  army  of  the  faithful,  it  is  that  of  a  pioneer.  This  is 
not  the  easiest  department,  but  still  I  like  it,  because  it 
has  so  much  of  chivalry  in  it,  and  keeps  the  mind  so  much 
awake  to  its  duties.  What  a  dull  world  this  would  have 
been  if  our  Creator  had  left  everything  prepared  and 
planned  to  our  hands !  I  am  glad  he  did  not  do  it.  It 
was  enough  that  he  furnished  materials,  and  tools,  and  a 
mind,  and  commanded  us  to  plan,  and  fashion,  and  exe- 
cute, according  to  our  several  ability.  O  there  is  an 


250  WILLBUR    FI8K. 

interest  in  this  course  which  wakes  up  the  soul  and  calls 
out  the  energies  of  the  intellect,  and  makes  man  feel  he 
does  not  live  in  vain." 

In  the  following  September  the  duties  of  the  University 
were  opened  with  appropriate  literary  ceremonies.  The 
inaugural  address  was  an  able  production,  and  was  imme- 
diately published  and  widely  circulated.  The  views  con- 
tained in  it  elevated  the  new  institution  at  once  to  a 
commanding  position  before  the  public,  and  gave  a  suffi- 
cient guarantee  of  the  ability  of  its  author  to  preside  over 
the  education  of  young  men.  The  consequence  was  that 
the  number  of  students  soon  became  quite  large. 

"  Dr.  Fisk  was  now  fully  inducted  into  his  new  office, 
and  found  himself  as  much  involved  in  business  as  ever. 
His  hands,  and  head,  and  heart  were  completely  occupied. 
He  was  again  the  principal  of  a  new  institution,  where  the 
foundation  had  to  be  laid  and  the  superstructure  reared. 
In  such  a  situation  one  with  his  peculiar  disposition  would 
necessarily  find  ample  occupation.  All  called  upon  him 
for  advice  or  other  aid,  and  his  supervision  extended 
everywhere.  He  draughted  rules  for  the  University,  and 
framed  the  regulations  of  a  boarding  department;  he 
superintended  the  studies  in  college,  and  the  pecuniary 
arrangements  of  the  prudential  committee;  he  heard 
classes  recite  in  Greek,  Latin,  and  metaphysics,  and  lis- 
tened to  the  petty  details  of  the  students'  personal  con- 
cerns; and  while  he  aided  the  professors  in  the  higher 
regions  of  mind,  he  often  came  down  to  the  examination 
of  the  accounts  of  the  institution.  He  was  remarkably 
fitted  for  this  multiplicity  of  business  by  his  peculiar  tact 
in  management,  his  readiness  and  flexibility  of  mind,  his 
knowledge  of  men,  habits  of  order,  and  facility  in  exe- 


WILLBUR    FISK.  257 

cuting  his  plans.  He  was  never  embarrassed,  never  out 
of  temper.  Always  calm,  even  in  the  midst  of  tumult,  he 
never  lost  the  control  of  his  faculties.  He  exhibited  such 
knowledge  of  affairs,  such  fertility  of  mind,  skill,  and 
address  in  transacting  business  as  very  soon  convinced  the 
prudential  committee  that  they  had  no  ordinary  man  to 
deal  with.  Skill  in  securing  cooperation  in  his  plans  was 
one  of  his  peculiar  qualifications.  All  had  confidence  in 
his  judgment,  and,  in  most  things,  readily  yielded  to  his 
views.  His  own  mind  seemed  the  centre  of  light  and 
influence,  and  its  radiations  illumined  all  who  were 
about  him." 

Of  his  influence  upon  the  students  too  much  cannot  be 
said.  No  sacrifice  was  too  costly  that  would  secure  their 
progress  in  morals  and  truth.  He  laboured  indefatigably ; 
and  though  his  delicate  health  would  have  seemed  a  suffi- 
cient excuse  for  not  attending  morning  prayers  in  the 
chapel  at  six  o'clock,  he  insisted  upon  performing  this 
duty  until  compelled  to  desist  by  the  urgent  solicitations 
of  the  faculty. 

His  intercourse  with  offending  students  was  admirably 
calculated  to  effect  a  reformation.  He  commanded  the 
reverence  and  attachment  of  the  students.  His  perfect 
self-possession  always  sustained  his  dignity  of  character, 
and  commanded  respect.  Yet  "he  was  very  seldom 
severe,  occasionally  sarcastic,  often  witty  and  humorous, 
just  so  as  to  turn  the  laugh  upon  the  offender.  Generally, 
he  was  mild  and  gentle,  but  never  harsh  nor  angry."  His 
admonitions  were  always  directed  to  the  moral  principle 
involved,  and  he  seldom  failed  in  producing  such  impres- 
sions as  were  lasting  and  efficacious.  The  number  of  stu- 
dents dismissed  during  his  presidency  was  remarkably 

ir 


258  WILLBUK    FI8K. 

small ;  and  though  this  is  not  always  the  best  test  of  good 
government,  still  the  unusual  qualifications  of  Dr.  Fisk,  as 
well  as  the  character  and  reputation  of  the  institution, 
leave  no  room  to  doubt  that  it  was  the  result  of  his  per- 
sonal influence  and  power. 

The  students  of  the  University,  dispersed  as  they  are 
over  the  union,  and  filling  posts  of  labour  in  foreign  mis- 
sions, all  bear  willing  testimony  to  the  faithfulness  of  his 
labours,  the  fervour  of  his  zeal,  the  force  of  his  example, 
the  authority  of  his  teaching.  Though  one  of  his  suc- 
cessors had  unquestionably  a  more  massive  intellect,  and 
was  in  every  other  respect  fully  equal  to  the  position,  yet 
Dr.  Fisk  will  ever  be  remembered  by  the  students  of  Mid- 
dletown  as  the  model  President. 

He  was  a  member  of  the  General  Conference  of  1832, 
and  in  the  year  1833  he  was  largely  concerned  in  the 
Indian  missions.  Indeed,  he  may  be  said  to  have  origin- 
ated the  mission  in  Oregon,  which  has  done  so  much  for 
the  original  inhabitants  of  our  land,  and  which,  having 
become  the  Oregon  Conference,  is  doing  a  great  and  good 
work  among  the  settlers  of  the  far  West. 

He  wrote  and  published  stirring  appeals  on  the  subject 
of  temperance,  engaged  in  the  Calvinistic  controversy,  and 
lent  the  aid  of  his  influence  to  every  good  word  and  work. 
Meanwhile  the  influence  of  the  University  was  extending, 
the  number  of  students  increasing,  and,  to  those  that  did 
not  know  how  much  he  was  doing  outside  its  walls,  it 
seemed  as  though  he  was  fully  occupied  with  its  interests. 
His  labours  were  crowned  with  abundant  success,  and  his 
prayers  were  answered  in  the  spiritual  growth  of  the  stu- 
dents. But  the  exposure  incident  upon  a  series  of  meet- 
ings, during  which  all  the  students,  with  three  or  four 


WILLBUK    FISK.  259 

exceptions,  made  a  profession  of  religion,  and  the  necessity 
that  was  laid  upon  him  to  travel  for  the  benefit  of  the 
pecuniary  affairs  of  the  school,  prostrated  his  health  so 
much  that  he  never  entirely  recovered  from  it.  The  year 
1834  was  peculiarly  trying  to  him,  and  the  condition  of  his 
health  led,  after  consultation  with  his  medical  advisers,  to 
his  voyage  to  Europe ;  but  various  causes  delayed  his 
departure  until  the  fall  of  1835.  The  results  of  his  observa- 
tions while  in  Europe  he  has  published.  The  book  shows 
clearly  the  practical  character  of  his  mind.  His  observa- 
tions are  principally  directed  to  the  literary,  moral,  and 
religious  state  of  society  rather  than  to  descriptions  of 
antique  ruins  or  stupendous  works  of  art.  The  eagerness 
with  which  he  investigated  his  favourite  topics,  and  the 
faithfulness  with  which  he  discusses  them,  operated 
undoubtedly  injuriously  upon  his  constitution,  and  proba- 
bly counteracted  the  benefits  he  might  otherwise  have 
received  from  his  tour.  Yet,  though  he  returned  with- 
out material  benefit  to  his  health,  he  prepared  this  work 
for  the  press  in  the  midst  of  numerous  interruptions, 
and  while  discharging  the  ordinary  duties  of  the  Uni- 
versity. **  . 

"While  absent  in  Europe  the  General  Conference  had 
elected  him  to  the  Episcopal  ofiice.  Immediately  on  his 
return  he  gave  the  subject  the  most  earnest  consideration, 
and  declined  consecration  in  a  letter  full  of  Christian  de- 
votion and  humility. 

On  the  1st  day  of  August,  1838,  he  attended,  for  the  last 
time,  the  Commencement  of  the  University.  The  feeble- 
ness that  had  followed  a  severe  attack  in  Pisa  became  daily 
more  extreme,  and,  though  he  wrote  much  and  preached 
frequently  afterward,  it  was  evident  to  all  that  his  days 


WILLBUK    FISK. 

were  numbered.  The  last  meeting  he  ever  attended  was 
on  the  occasion  of  the  return  of  the  missionary  whom  he 
had  selected,  and  whose  residence  among  the  Indians  of  the 
West  had  been  accomplished  by  his  energy.  His  last 
labours  were  in  behalf  of  the  Oregon  mission. 

And  yet  it  may  seriously  be  doubted  whether  all  the 
active  labours  of  his  life,  all  his  preaching,  his  devotion  to 
missions,  his  interest  in  education,  accomplished  more  for 
the  world  than  the  scenes  of  his  sick  room  and  his  dying 
couch  would  have  done  could  they  have  been  seen  by  all 
as  by  the  chosen  few  who  were  with  him  to  the  last. 
Death  had  no  terrors  for  him,  and  he  met  it  with  that 
calmness  which  bespoke  a  soul  prepared.  The  Wesleyan 
University,  his  English  brethren,  the  missionary  society,  as 
well  as  his  personal  friends,  were  all  affectionately  remem- 
bered by  him  in  his  last  moments. 

"Sunday,  the  10th  of  February,  was  a  day  of  uncom- 
mon interest  and  solemnity.  There  was  not  the  least  pros- 
pect of  his  recovery,  so  that  it  was  not  thought  necessary 
to  restrain  him  from  conversing,  and  yet  his  strength  was 
not  so  far  exhausted  as  to  prevent  the  free  play  of  his  mind 
and  feelings.  The  scene  in  his  chamber  was  transcend- 
ently  elevating.  In  the  morning  he  asked  Mrs.  Fisk  what 
day  it  was.  On  ascertaining,  he  observed, '  This  would  be 
a  good  day  to  die.'  '  Perhaps,'  said  Mrs.  Fisk,  '  the  Lord 
will  take  you  to  his  rest  this  day.'  '  Then  I  can  worship,' 
was  his  answer,  '  with  the  Sabbath-keeping  bands  in  heav- 
en, but  I  cannot  here.'  On  being  told  that  he  always 
loved  the  Sabbath,  '  Yes,'  he  replied,  '  and  though  it  was  a 
day  of  toil  to  me,  yet  I  loved  my  work.  To  me  the  Sab- 
bath has  been  an  emblem  of  that  promised  rest.  O,  that 
rest  is  sweet ;  it  is  glorious !'  He  then  beckoned  his 


WILLBUR    FI8K.  261 

adopted  daughter  to  him,  saying,  '  Let  us  pray  together ;' 
and,  throwing  an  arm  round  each  of  them  as  they  kneeled 
before  him,  he  offered  up  a  prayer,  gasping  it  out  word  by 
word,  which  seemed  the  very  language  of  the  spiritual 
world.  It  was  deep,  pathetic,  powerful,  sublime.  Then, 
as  they  rose  from  their  knees,  he  said,  '  Vain  human  rea- 
soners  often  tell  us  that  the  soul  and  the  body  will  go  down 
together  to  the  dust,  because  the  spirit  is  depressed  when 
the  body  is ;  but  it  is  not  true.  These  clogs  of  earth  have 
often  retarded  the  operations  of  my  mind,  and  been  as  so 
many  barriers  to  its  activity  ;  but  now  I  feel  a  strength  of 
soul  and  an  energy  of  mind  which  this  body,  though 
afflicted  and  pained,  cannot  impair.  The  soul  has  an 
energy  of  its  own ;  and  so  far  from  my  body  pressing  my 
soul  down  to  earth,  I  feel  as  if  my  soul  had  almost  power 
to  raise  the  body  upward  and  bear  it  away :  and  it  will  at 
last,  by  the  power  of  God,  effectually  draw  it  to  heaven,  for 
its  attractions  are  all  thitherward.' 

"February  14th,  as  his  regular  physician,  Dr.  Miner, 
was  examining  his  pulse,  he  faintly  said,  'Why  do  you 
examine  the  pulse  without  prescribing  ?  Is  it  low  ?'  '  Yes 
sir,  very  low.'  '  Is  it  fluttering  ?'  *  Not  yet,  sir.'  '  Not 
yetf  he  replied,  faintly,  and  then  sighed  out,  'The  hour  of 
release  is  at  hand.' "  He  lingered  until  the  twenty-second 
and  then  died,  as  he  had  lived,  in  the  triumphs  of  faith. 

Thus  lived  and  thus  died  this  great  and  good  man. 
He  accomplished  a  great  work,  and  filled  up  the  measure 
of  his  days  with  usefulness.  The  impetus  that  his  exer- 
tions gave  to  the  missionary  cause  doubled  the  receipts  of 
the  treasury  in  one  year.  His  labours  established  the  cause 
of  Methodist  education  in  New-England.  Singularly  hon- 
oured in  being  elected  to  the  episcopal  office  in  two  dis- 


262  WILLBUB     FI8K. 

tinct  organizations,  his  life  was  characterized  by  great 
uniform  humility.  As  a  speaker  he  had  few  equals ;  his 
graphic  power  of  conception,  his  pure  and  felicitous  expres- 
sion, his  collected  and  yet  impetuous  delivery,  gave  him 
the  "  clearness,  force,  and  earnestness  which  produce  con- 
viction ;"  while  the  delicate  pathos  of  his  intonation,  and  the 
winning  love  of  his  own  pure  heart  controlled  the  sympa- 
thies of  his  audience,  and  moved  them  at  his  will.  In  con- 
troversy he  stood  forth  preeminently  the  champion  of  the 
Church;  and  though  assailed  with  bitter  animosity  and 
unsparing  personality,  it  is  believed  that  no  line  or  senti- 
ment can  be  found  in  all  his  writings  which  he  might  wish 
to  recall,  as  manifesting  personal  heat  or  a  want  of  Chris- 
tian courtesy. 

He  was  a  model  worthy  of  imitation ;  lovely  in  private 
life ;  indefatigable  in  public  labours ;  finished  in  scholar- 
ship ;  devoted  in  holiness ;  triumphant  in  death.  Men  of 
letters  lost  in  him  a  worthy  associate,  and  the  Church  her 
noblest  son. 


»d  br  Welch  I  Walter     nulad»  •  (rcm  a  ?«innnj  by  3 


GEOtRSE    IPDSKEKDMG, 

NKW    ENGLAND    CONFERENCX 


OUR  engraving  presents  a  very  accurate  likeness  of  the 
veteran  Pickering  in  his  latter  years — it  tells  his  charac- 
teristic simplicity — his  quaint  humour  even  lurks  in  the 
lines  of  the  face,  and  the  defect  of  his  left  eye  has  not 
escaped  the  attention  of  the  artist. 

GEORGE  PICKERING  is  an  historical  name  in  the  annals  of 
New-England  Methodism.  Not  great  in  talents,  he  was 
both  original  and  great  in  character,  and  his  was  the  pecu- 
liar power  that  pertains  to  character.  Talents,  without  a 
definite  character,  are  seldom  of  much  avail;  but  well- 
marked  character,  even  without  notable  talents,  has  a 
power  of  its  own,  often  the  most  effective  power — a 
power  that  empowers  every  other  attribute.  George 
Pickering's  long  and  useful  career  was  an  illustration  of 
this  characteristic  effectiveness. 

He  was  one  of  the  strong  men — the  "giants  of  those 
days" — who  were  sent  by  the  old  Baltimore  Conference  to 
found  Methodism  in  the  Eastern  States — a  corps  of  evan- 
gelists, which,  headed  by  Jesse  Lee,  and  continually 
recruited  from  the  same  Conference  through  the  last 
decade  of  the  last  century,  fought  the  first  battles  of 
Methodism  in  New-England.  And  they  were  battles 
such  as  the  new  sect  encountered  in  no  other  field  on 


264  GEORGE    PICKERING. 

the  continent.  In  most  of  its  other  fields  Methodism  did 
not  find  the  ground  prepossessed  by  traditional  theological 
opinions.  "Within  the  Baltimore  Conference,  and  south  of 
it,  the  Anglican  Church,  by  its  similarity  of  creed  and  the 
absence  of  its  clergy,  during  and  after  the  Revolution, 
opened  the  way  of  Methodism.  The  West,  so  far  as  it  was 
yet  accessible,  presented  no  theological  prepossession,  but 
welcomed  the  generous  theology  and  heroic  spirit  of  the 
new  denomination  as  peculiarly  congenial  with  its  own 
character.  The  commixture  of  sects  in  the  Middle  States 
afforded  it  fair  play  there.  But  in  the  East  it  was  treated 
by  the  official  guardians  of  the  "standing  order"  as  an 
heretical  and  unconscionably  pertinacious  intruder.  New- 
England  was  everywhere  defined  into  parishes,  and  sup- 
plied with  a  "settled  ministry."  The  "minister"  ranked 
as  the  highest  personage  of  the  village,  the  magistrate  and 
deacon  ranging  next  in  order.  The  people  were  taxed  for 
the  support  of  the  hereditary  faith.  That  faith  was  invet- 
erately  Calvinistic,  and  was  shocked  at  the  Arminianism  of 
Methodism. 

The  appearance,  in  such  a  field  as  this,  of  a  few  men  in 
Quaker-like  dress,  on  horseback,  with  their  whole  ward- 
robe and  library  in  their  saddle-bags,  driving  to  and  fro 
with  all  speed,  preaching  day  and  night,  "crying  aloud 
and  sparing  not,"  was  a  surprise,  a  mystery  to  the  staid 
community,  most  especially  to  the  clergy,  whose  parish 
bounds  were  incessantly  crossed  and  recrossed  with  as 
little  regard  as  if  they  were  indeed  but  "  imaginary  lines/' 
They  were  tolerated,  of  course,  for  that  the  law  required ; 
but  in  some  cases  they  were  denied  everything  else  but 
toleration — even  the  most  ordinary  hospitalities.  Lee 
records  repeated  visits  to  the  same  village  where  the 


GEORGE    PICKERING.  265 

people  came  to  the  court-house  to  hear  him,  but  coolly 
allowed  him,  after  the  discourse,  to  mount  his  horse  and 
ride  away  without  a  single  invitation  to  "  call  at  any  man's 
home."  "  God  only  knows,"  he  wrote,  "  what  I  have  had 
to  endure ;"  and  again  he  says,  "  If  the  Lord  did  not  com- 
fort me,  in  hoping  against  hope,  or  believing  against 
appearances,  I  should  depart  from  the  work  in  this  part 
of  the  world." 

The  men  who  came  to  the  help  of  Lee  in  this  formida- 
ble field  were  among  the  most  effective  preachers  of 
Methodism  known  in  that  day.  Dr.  George  Roberts,  Daniel 
Smith,  Jacob  Brush,  John  Bloodgood,  Nathaniel  B.  Mills, 
Hope  Hull,  Joshua  Taylor,  Daniel  Ostrander,  John  Broad- 
head,  Shadrach  Bostwick,  William  Beauchamp,  and,  not 
the  least,  George  Pickering,  were  of  the  number.  They 
were  "master-builders;"  and  the  subsequent  symmetry 
and  firmness  of  the  structure  of  Methodism  in  the  East, 
is  owing  to  the  manner  in  which  they  laid  its  foundations. 

Pickering  was  born  in  Talbot  County,  Maryland,  in 
1769.  He  was  converted  at  the  age  of  eighteen  in  St. 
George's  Church,  Philadelphia,  and  joined  the  Baltimore 
Conference  in  1790.  His  first  appointment  was  on  the 
old  Northampton  Circuit,  in  Yirginia.  After  a  thorough 
induction  into  the  hardships  of  itinerant  life  in  Yirginia 
and  Maryland,  he  was  sent  by  Asbury  to  New-England, 
about  four  years  subsequent  to  the  arrival  of  Lee.  Lee, 
Cooper,  Roberts,  Ostrander,  Mudge,  and  some  twenty  other 
itinerants,  were  now  abroad  in  the  same  field,  and  welcomed 
him  to  their  conflicts  and  their  victories.  His  first  appoint- 
ment (1793)  in  the  East  was  on  Hartford  (Conn.)  Circuit. 

"We  give  in  detail  his  subsequent  appointments — a  strik- 
ing example  of  Methodist  itinerancy.  In  1794,  Tolland ; 


266  GEORGE    PICKERING. 

1795,  Lynn;  1796,  Boston  and  Needham;  the  following 
four  years,  presiding  elder  of  the  New-England  District, 
including  the  whole  field  of  Methodism  in  the  New-Eng- 
land States,  except  Maine  and  Connecticut.  We  can 
scarcely  form  a  conception,  amid  the  facilities  of  travel- 
ling in  these  days,  of  the  vast  journies  and  labours  com- 
prised in  this  extraordinary  district.  Commencing  at  Prov- 
idence, it  extended  down  the  Providence  River,  taking  in 
the  appointments  on  both  its  shores,  to  Newport;  thence 
it  reached  to  the  islands  of  Martha's  Vineyard  and  Nan- 
tucket  ;  thence  it  swept  the  whole  of  Cape  Cod,  to  Prov- 
incetown,  and  returning,  took  in  all  the  eastern  portion  of 
Massachusetts,  extended  to  all  the  interior  appointments 
of  the  State,  except  one  on  its  western  boundary,  and 
penetrated  through  New-Hampshire  to  beyond  the  centre 
of  Vermont.  In  1801,  he  was  appointed  to  Boston,  Lynn, 
and  Marblehead;  1802,  Salisbury  and  Hawke;  the  follow- 
ing four  years,  Boston  District;  1807,  the  city  of  Boston; 
1809,  he  was  missionary  at  large ;  then  on  Boston  District 
again  for  four  years ;  1813,  1814,  Boston  city ;  the  ensuing 
two  years,  Lynn;  1817,  Boston  District  for  four  years; 
the  next  three  years,  missionary  at  large ;  1824,  mission- 
ary at  Newburyport  and  Gloucester;  the  next  five  years, 
missionary  at  large ;  1830,  1831,  Easton  and  Bridgewater ; 
1832,  Lowell;  1833,  Cambridge;  1834,  Worcester;  1835, 
Marblehead  and  Salem ;  1836,  Charlestown;  1837,  Water- 
town  Mission;  1838,  Wafertown  and  Waltham;  1839, 
Roxbury;  1840,  1841,  Weston;  1842,  Saxonville;  1843, 
Church-street,  Boston;  1844,  1845,  Medford;  1846,  North 
Reading — remarkable  record  of  tireless  travels,  labours, 
and  privations,  in  the  work  of  his  Divine  Master,  during 
fifty-seven  years!  There  is  a  severe  and  significant  elo- 


GEOKGE    PICKEUING.  26T 

quence  in  this  bare  recital  of  names  and  dates,  which  no 
comments  can  enhance. 

He  was  a  member  of  every  General  Conference  of  the 
Church,  save  two,  during  forty  years.  Down  to  the  year 
1836  his  name  had  in  every  instance  been  placed  first  on 
the  New-England  delegation.  At  that  session,  and  also  the 
one  of  1840,  it  was  displaced  by  the  names  of  the  two 
principal  leaders  of  the  Secession  which  soon  followed. 
In  1844  he  reappeared  in  that  venerable  body ;  it  was  the 
last  session  in  his  life,  and  it  was  his  affliction  to  witness 
the  deplorable  scene  of  the  division  of  the  Church.  In 
the  General  Conference  of  1808,  he  was  a  member  of  the 
committee  which  first  projected  a  delegated  General  Con- 
ference. 

He  was  emphatically  an  itinerant.  His  early  habits  of 
travel  clung  to  him  through  life.  Nine  years  he  spent  as 
a  missionary  at  large  in  the  Conference — a  work  for  which 
he  was  peculiarly  fitted — and  during  sixteen  years  he 
travelled  extended  and  laborious  districts  as  a  Presiding 
Elder. 

About  three  miles  from  the  village  of  Watertown,  Mass., 
is  a  rural  spot  of  no  little  landscape  beauty,  and  memorable 
in  the  primitive  history  of  Methodism — once  the  home- 
stead of  Abraham  Bemis.  The  journals  of  the  early 
Methodist  preachers  abound  in  allusions  to  it.  Asbury, 
Whatcoat,  Lee,  Hedding,  Roberts,  &c.,  used  to  turn  aside 
to  it,  as  pilgrims  to  a  shrine  or  mariners  to  a  favourite 
haven.  After  ascending  a  winding  road  from  Watertown, 
among  hills  and  richly-cultivated  farms,  the  traveller  is  led, 
by  a  private  way,  through  attractive  landscapes,  to  an  un- 
pretending but  spacious  and  comfortable  mansion,  which 
stands  on  the  southern  side  of  an  amphitheatre  of  hills. 


268  GEORGE    riCKEKING. 

The  enclosed  area  is  about  half  a  mile  in  diameter,  and 
presents  charming  prospects  in  all  directions.  The  house 
was,  in  the  first  years  of  Methodism,  embosomed  in  or- 
chards, under  which  the  great  men  of  the  Church  in  that  day 
preached  sermons  that  made  the  amphitheatre  echo.  The 
Methodist  society  of  the  town  was  formed  here,  and  Abra- 
ham Bemis  and  his  family  became  its  first  members. 
Hundreds  heard  the  gospel  in  its  power  on  his  premises, 
and  doubtless  many  still  look  down  from  heaven  with  glad- 
ness upon  the  memorable  spot.  His  hospitality  seemed 
only  to  enhance  his  prosperity ;  his  property  increased,  all 
his  household  and  many  of  his  other  kindred  became  mem- 
bers of  the  Church,  and  the  good  old  saint,  who  welcomed 
the  pilgrims  of  the  Lord  in  the  day  of  their  adversity,  at 
last  went  to  heaven,  "  triumphant  in  the  faith  and  hope  of 
the  gospel,"  at  the  ripe  age  of  eighty-seven  years. 

His  daughter,  Mary  Bemis,  was  received  into  the  Church 
when  about  seventeen  years  old,  and  in  two  years  after- 
ward became  the  wife  of  George  Pickering,  who  at  last 
inherited  the  consecrated  homestead,  and  maintained  to  the 
end  its  old  hospitality.  We  give  a  finely-engraved  pic- 
ture of  this  mansion.  It  is  an  historical  monument  of  our 
cause. 

The  marriage  of  Pickering  was  in  all  respects  a  happy 
one.  Through  his  long  life,  most  of  it  spent  in  absence  as 
a  travelling  preacher,  his  home  was  an  asylum  to  which, 
at  his  regular  periodical  times  and  at  no  others,  he  returned 
to  find  solace  and  repose  from  his  labours  and  trials.  The 
only  detraction  from  its  enjoyments  was  the  thought  that 
so  many  of  his  heroic  fellow-labourers  had  no  similar  shel- 
ter for  themselves  or  their  families ;  with  them,  however,  he 
ever  wished  to  share  his  happiness.  His  doors  were  always 


GEORGE     PICKERING.  269 

open  to  receive  them,  and  many  a  way-worn  prophet  has 
sent  up  his  evening  prayer,  and  sung  a  matin  hymn  of 
gratitude  beneath  his  roof. 

Many — most,  indeed — of  our  first  Methodist  preachers 
had  to  locate  for  a  part  of  their  lives,  at  least,  in  order  to  pro- 
vide for  their  families.  Of  six  hundred  and  fifty  who  had 
been  on  the  minutes  by  the  end  of  the  last  century,  five 
hundred  died  in  the  local  ranks,  and  most  of  the  remainder 
had  located ;  though,  on  becoming  relieved  of  domestic  em- 
barrassments, they  were  able  to  reenter  the  itinerancy  and 
to  die  in  it.  George  Pickering  is  one  of  the  few  who  never 
located.  His  happy  marriage,  and  happy  home  at  Water- 
town,  relieved  him  from  the  sad  necessity.  Nor  did  he,  as 
is  often  the  case,  abuse  his  providential  comforts  by  self-in- 
dulgence, by  retreating  from  his  post  unduly  to  enjoy  them. 
His  rigour  in  this  respect  was  one  of  the  characteristic  traits 
of  his  life ;  it  was,  perhaps,  unparalleled,  and,  we  are  inclined 
to  say,  too  severe.  He  never  entered  his  home,  as  we  have 
said,  except  at  the  assigned  periodical  times.  Only  one- 
fifth  of  his  married  life — ten  years  in  fifty — were  spent 
under  his  own  roof!  His  strictness  in  this  respect  reminds 
us  of  the  noble,  but  defective  virtue  of  the  old  Roman 
character.  If  business  called  him  to  the  town  of  his  family 
residence,  at  other  times  than  those  appropriated  to  his 
domestic  visits,  he  returned  to  his  post  of  labour  without 
crossing  the  threshold  of  his  home.  In  that  terrible  calam- 
ity which  spread  gloom  over  the  land — the  burning  of  the 
steamer  Lexington,  by  night,  on  Long  Island  Sound — he 
lost  a  beloved  daughter.  The  intensity  of  the  affliction  was 
not  capable  of  enhancement,  yet  he  stood  firmly  on  his 
ministerial  watch-tower,  though  with  a  bleeding  heart, 
while  his  family,  but  a  few  miles  distant,  were  frantic  with 


GEOKGE    PICKERING. 

anguish.  Not  till  the  due  time  did  he  return  to  them ; 
when  it  arrived,  he  entered  his  home  with  a  sorrow- 
smitten  spirit,  pressed  in  silence  the  hand  of  his  wife, 
and,  without  uttering  a  word,  retired  to  an  adjoining 
room,  where  he  spent  some  hours  in  solitude  and  unutter- 
able grief. 

That  home,  the  scene  of  so  many  triumphs  of  grace,  so 
much  hospitality,  and  so  much  happiness,  was  at  last  made 
memorable  as  the  dying  scene  of  the  apostolic  veteran — 
tJie  oldest  tra/velling  Methodist  preacher  in  the  world  at 
the  time.*  It  has  been  our  honour  to  be  a  guest  within 
its  walls  occasionally ;  but  our  most  esteemed  privilege  of 
the  kind  was  to  witness  the  aged  preacher's  last  triumph 
there.  We  rode  out  to  the  mansion  in  company  with  the 
Methodist  preachers  of  Boston.  Such  was  his  extreme 
feebleness,  that  visitors,  and  even  audible  devotional 
exercises,  had  been  almost  entirely  inadmissible  in  his 
chamber.  It  was  feared,  therefore,  before  our  arrival, 
that  it  would  be  possible  only  for  us  to  send  up  to  him 
the  assurance  of  our  Christian  regard,  without  the  privi- 
lege of  a  personal  interview.  At  his  own  request,  how- 
ever, we  were  all  permitted  to  approach  his  bedside. 
A  scene  ensued  there  which  no  pen  can  describe.  As  it 
was  impossible  for  him  to  address  the  visitors  individually, 
one  of  them  was  designated  to  speak  to  him  in  behalf  of 
all ;  but  under  the  necessary  restriction  of  doing  so  in  the 
briefest  possible  manner.  On  taking  the  hand  of  the  aged 
sufferer,  he  opened  his  eyes,  and  showed  his  recognition  of 

0  There  were,  the  last  year  of  his  life,  but  two  members  of  American 
Conferences  (Ezekiel  Cooper  and  Joshua  Wells)  who  preceded  him,  and  but 
fourteen  in  England ;  they  had  all,  however,  retired  from  actual  service. — 
Memorials  of  Methodism. 


GEORGE    PICKERING.  271 

the  brother  addressing  him,  by  tears  of  affection.  The  fol- 
lowing brief  conversation  ensued : — 

"  Beloved  father,  a  number  of  your  ministerial  brethren 
are  present,  and  have  requested  me  to  express  to  you  their 
Christian  affection  and  sympathy." 

He  replied,  with  strong  emphasis  and  tears,  "I  thank 
you  ;  you  all  have  a  high  place  in  my  affection." 

"They  are  happy  to  learn  that,  in  this  your  extremity, 
you  are  still  rejoicing  in  hope  of  the  glory  of  God." 

"Yes!  Oyes!" 

"  That  you  feel  that  the  sting  of  death  is  extracted." 

"Yes!  Oyes!" 

"  And  that  you  can  resign  yourself  fully  into  the  hands 
of  your  Lord." 

"  Yes,  O  yes ;  glory  be  to  his  name !" 

Grasping  the  hand  of  the  brother  addressing  him  with 
still  firmer  hold,  he  then,  with  tears  and  sobs,  exclaimed  : — 

"You  all  have  my  high  esteem  and  affection.  Tell,  O 
tell  the  brethren  to  preach  Christ  and  him  crucified — an 
all-able,  all-powerful,  all-willing,  all-ready  Saviour — a  pres- 
ent Saviour,  sa/ving  now.  Preach,  '  Now  is  the  accepted 
time,  now  is  the  day  of  salvation.'  O,  tell  them  to  preach 
holiness :  holiness  is  the  principal  thing.  Preach  holiness, 
holiness — God  enable  you  to  preach  holiness." 

His  emotions  overcame  him — he  attempted  to  say  more, 
but  the  brother  conducting  the  conversation  closed  it  by 
saying  :— 

"  "We  thank  God,  dear  father,  for  the  good  testimony 
and  counsel  we  have  been  permitted  to  receive  from  you  ; 
we  shall  never  forget  it.  We  regret  that  your  condition 
will  not  allow  us  to  linger  longer  with  you ;  we  take  our 
leave,  to  meet  you  in  heaven.  God  bless  you !  Farewell !" 


272  GEORGE    PICKERING. 

The  scene  was  touching  and  sublime — a  hoary  and  heroic 
veteran  of  the  cross  was  standing  between  both  worlds, 
about  to  disappear  from  his  fellow-labourers  forever  on 
earth.  Full  of  years,  and  virtues,  and  services,  he  was 
now  victorious  over  death,  and  giving  his  departing  coun- 
sels to  his  brethren.  We  broke  away  from  the  room,  so 
near  the  gate  of  heaven,  with  deep  emotions,  and  assem- 
bled in  the  parlour  below,  where  we  sung,  within  reach  of 
his  hearing, 

"  On  Jordan's  stormy  banks  I  stand,"  &o. 

After  which  the  company  knelt  in  prayer,  and  committing 
the  venerable  saint,  his  family,  and  ourselves  to  God,  we 
returned  to  the  city,  thanking  God,  "who  giveth  us  the 
victory,  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,"  and  feeling  that 
we  had  enjoyed  a  memorable  day. 

The  hero  of  so  many  fields  died  as  he  had  lived — victori- 
ous. His  last  distinct  utterance  was,  "  All  my  affairs  for 
time  and  eternity  are  settled.  Glory  be  to  God !"  And 
the  last  whisper  caught  by  his  attendants,  was  the  word 
"GLORY!" 

George  Pickering  was  a  perfect  Christian  gentleman. 
He  was  neat  in  his  person  even  to  preciseness.  He  re- 
tained, to  the  end  of  his  life,  the  plain  costume  of  our  first 
ministry,  and  it  was  always  brushed  to  the  last  degree  of 
cleanliness.  No  man  in  New-England  ever  wore  less  soiled 
shoes.  His  care  in  these  respects  was  fastidious,  to  be 
sure,  but  it  was  characteristic,  and  if  erring,  erred  on  the 
right  side.  In  manners  he  was  without  ceremony,  but 
equally  exempt  from  negligence.  No  one  ever  saw  in 
George  Pickering  a  questionable  point  of  manners,  in 
whatever  place  or  company.  He  exemplified,  as  well  as 


GEORGE    PICKERING.  273 

any  man  we  ever  knew,  that  best  proof  of  the  true  gentle- 
man, manners  without  mannerism. 

As  a  preacher  he  was  always  brief,  direct,  very  sys- 
tematic and  perspicuous,  and  he  never  failed  to  close 
his  remarks  with  a  distinct,  powerful,  and  home-addressed 
exhortation.  There  was  a  dry,  pithy  humour  playing 
through  his  conversation,  and  it  often  darted  out  in  his  dis- 
courses. We  never  knew  a  single  instance,  however,  in 
which  it  became  personal  sarcasm,  or  could  give  pain  to 
the  hearer. 

There  was  much  of  what  was  called  "  the  philosopher " 
about  him.  He  could  not  be  surprised  or  thrown  off  his 
guard.  His  characteristic  precision  extended  to  his  habits 
of  diet,  of  sleeping,  and  rising.  He  never  spoke  but  to  the 
point,  and  avoided  men  of  many  words.  He  never  occu- 
pied five  minutes  at  a  time  in  Conference  discussions.  He 
never  showed  very  strong  emotions,  either  of  joy  or  grief. 
His  life,  after  taking  its  designation,  kept  right  onward, 
wavering  not,  faltering  not,  till  he  entered  the  gate  of 
heaven. 

His  moral  traits  were  strong  and  steadfast.  He  was  a 
man  of  faith,  of  habitual  prayer,  of  decided  tenacity  for  his 
Arminian  sentiments,  of  deliberate,  unshakable  courage, 
and  of  the  strictest  conscientiousness. 

"  Such  was  George  Pickering,"  says  one  who  knew  him 
well;  "pure  in  character,  laborious  in  life,  triumphant  in 
death."  What  more  need  be  said  of  him? 

18 


*//?24zn( 


IT  is  the  object  of  this  article  to  give  a  brief  sketch  of  the 
life  and  character  of  an  eminent  servant  of  God,  who,  dur- 
ing more  than  thirty  years'  service  in  the  ministry,  filled 
with  honour  and  success  the  various  stations  and  offices  to 
which  he  was  called — everywhere  winning  the  affections 
of  the  people,  and  at  all  times  enjoying  the  confidence  and 
esteem  of  his  brethren,  till  he  was  suddenly  summoned  from 
his  work  to  his  reward. 

NOAH  LEVTNGS  was  born  in  Cheshire  County,  New-Hamp- 
shire, on  the  29th  of  September,  1796.  His  parents  being 
in  humble  circumstances,  he  was  sent  from  home  to  earn  a 
livelihood  when  about  eight  or  nine  years  of  age.  From 
that  time  he  shared  but  few  of  the  joys  or  advantages  of 
the  parental  home.  But,  even  among  comparative  stran- 
gers, the  amiableness  of  his  character  and  the  faithfulness 
of  his  service  everywhere  secured  for  him  friends.  His 
early  advantages  for  mental  improvement  were  very  limited 
— a  source  of  much  regret  to  him  in  after  life.  In  his  case, 
it  was  a  matter  of  little  consequence  that  the  public  schools 
were  poorly  supported  and  poorly  conducted ;  that  text- 
books were  defective  and  teachers  incompetent.  To  him, 
thirsting  for  knowledge,  yet  from  very  childhood  com- 
pelled to  toil  for  his  daily  bread,  the  few  advantages  they 


2T6  NOAH    LIVINGS. 

did  afford  would  have  been  regarded  as  a  boon  above  all 
price. 

His  early  religious  impressions  were  deep  and  lasting. 
But  experimental  religion  was  little  known  at  that  period 
within  the  circle  of  his  acquaintance.  High  Calvinism  had 
begotten  its  opposite  in  error — Universalism,  and  the  two 
opinions  were  in  conflict  for  the  mastery.  It  could  not  be 
doubtful,  (apart  from  divine  interposition,)  in  an  age  when 
the  tone  of  piety  and  of  morals  was  emphatically  low, 
which  would  have  the  vantage-ground  in  the  contest.  The 
one  required  morality — nay,  piety,  after  its  kind ;  the  other 
dispensed  with  both,  while  at  the  same  time  its  "policies 
of  insurance  "  were  issued  on  the  largest  scale.  In  such  a 
contest,  carried  on  in  such  an  age,  the  chances  were  on  the 
side  of  the  scheme  which  promised  most  and  required  least. 
Nor  have  we  any  doubt  that  Universalism  would  long  since 
have  obtained  the  mastery  in  New-England,  had  not  the 
fermenting  mass  been  impregnated  with  the  leaven  of  a 
purer  faith  and  a  richer  experience.  Divine  Providence 
raised  up  a  people  to  proclaim  a  free,  a  present,  and  a  full 
salvation ;  this,  by  the  new  elements  of  Christian  power  it 
evoked,  has  proved  a  check  and  an  anti'dote  to  the  system 
of  religious  licentiousness  which  was  sweeping  over  the 
land  like  a  flood. 

At  the  age  of  sixteen  the  subject  of  our  memoir  was 
apprenticed  to  a  blacksmith  in  Troy,  his  parents  having 
previously  removed  to  that  place.  When  he  entered  upon 
his  new  situation  he  formed  the  resolution  to  be  faithful  to 
his  master,  and  regard  his  interests  as  his  own.  His  morals 
were  placed  in  great  peril.  His  master  was  not  religious, 
and  did  not  pretend  to  control  him  upon  the  Sabbath ;  and 
he  was  led  into  the  company  of  Sabbath-breakers,  and  with 


NOAH    LEVINGS. 

them  spent  much  holy  time  in  roaming  over  the  fields  and 
through  the  woods  adjacent  to  the  city.  But  his  natural 
good  sense,  and  the  uncorrupted  moral  principles  incul- 
cated in  early  life,  soon  came  to  his  relief.  His  parents, 
though  not  professedly  pious,  had  trained  their  children  to 
a  strict  observance  of  the  Christian  Sabbath,  and  now  the 
moral  influence  of  that  early  training  revived  and  wrought 
his  deliverance,  as  it  has  that  of  thousands  of  young  men 
similarly  exposed. 

Breaking  away  from  these  associations,  he  determined 
to  become  a  regular  attendant  upon  the  worship  of  God  in 
some  one  of  the  churches.  All  Churches  were  alike  to 
him,  for  he  had  not  become  familiar  with  the  creeds  of 
any,  nor,  indeed,  scarcely  with  the  peculiarities  in  their 
forms  of  worship.  lie  therefore  determined  upon  a  circuit 
of  visitation  to  the  several  churches  in  the  city ;  and,  in 
carrying  out  this  design,  he  first  visited  the  Presbyterian 
Church,  then  under  the  pastoral  charge  of  Kev.  Jonas  Coe, 
D.  D. ;  who,  he  says,  "  was  a  good  man  and  an  excellent 
pastor."  He  next  attended  the  Baptist  Church,  where 
"  good  old  Mr.  "Wayland  (the  father  of  President  Wayland) 
was  the  minister."  Though  favourably  impressed  with  the 
piety  and  abilities  of  both  of  these  servants  of  God,  he 
could  not  feel  at  home  in  their  congregations.  His  third 
visit  was  made  to  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church,  but 
there  he  was  wearied  with  ceremonies  too  numerous  and 
complicated  to  be  either  interesting  or  edifying.  He  next 
attended  the  meeting  of  the  Friends ;  but  here,  instead  of 
long  prayers  and  tedious  ceremonies,  he  heard  nothing  at 
all ;  nor  was  he  loth  to  leave  when  the  hour  was  up  and 
the  sign  for  closing  given. 

His  last  visit  of  inquiry  was  at  the  Methodist  Episcopal 


NOAH    LEVINGS. 

Church.  He  found  a  small  house,  occupied  by  a  simple, 
plain,  and  solemn  people.  Their  worship,  though  not  im- 
posing in  its  forms,  was  hearty  and  sincere.  It  not  a  little 
surprised  him  to  witness,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  a  con- 
gregation kneeling  down  in  time  of  prayer.  The  convic- 
tion was  wrought  in  his  mind  that  this  people  were  the 
people  of  God.  Under  the  ministry  of  the  word,  feelings 
were  awakened  which  he  had  known  nowhere  else ;  and 
under  the  powerful  reasonings  and  cogent  appeals  of  the 
Rev.  P.  P.  Sandford,  the  stationed  minister,  he  was  often 
made  to  feel  that  God  truly  was  in  that  place.  But  it  was 
more  particularly  under  the  preaching  of  the  Rev.  Laban 
Clark,  who  succeeded  Mr.  Sandford,  that  he  was  led  to 
realize  fully  his  lost  condition,  and  to  feel  the  necessity  of 
seeking  salvation  by  faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  On 
one  occasion  he  left  the  church  so  overwhelmed  with  the 
consciousness  of  his  guilt  and  wretchedness,  that  he  almost 
bordered  upon  despair.  The  struggles  of  his  soul  were 
deep  and  powerful ;  and  in  the  privacy  of  his  closet  he 
wrestled  and  agonized  before  God.  This  was  long  before 
he  had  broken  the  secret  of  his  heart  even  to  his  most  inti- 
mate friends.  He  at  length  unburdened  his  mind  to  a 
pious  young  man  of  his  acquaintance.  By  this  young  man 
he  was  taken  to  the  prayer-meeting,  then  held  at  the  house 
of  Dr.  Landon,  a  man  of  God  now  departed  to  his  rest,  but 
whose  memory  is  like  "  ointment  poured  forth."  Here  the 
young  inquirer  became  more  perfectly  instructed  in  the 
way  of  salvation  by  faith,  and  was  also  a  subject  of  special 
and  earnest  prayer. 

He  sought  God  sincerely  and  unreservedly :  he  prayed 
earnestly,  and  with  many  tears.  There  was  no  tie  that  he 
would  not  sunder,  and  no  sacrifice  that  he  would  not  make, 


NOAH     LEVINGS.  279 

if  necessary,  to  secure  the  favour  of  his  offended  Lord. 
Yet  his  conversion  was  less  sudden,  and  less  strongly 
marked  in  its  character,  than  that  of  many  others.  He 
was  rather  "  drawn  with  the  cords  of  a  man  and  with  the 
bands  of  love,"  than  driven  by  the  thunders  of  the  law; 
though  each  had  their  appropriate  influence  in  leading  him 
to  the  Saviour.  Nor  was  the  evidence  of  his  change  either 
sudden  or  clear.  Upon  this  point  he  remained  for  a  long 
time  in  a  state  of  most  distressing  uncertainty.  From  the 
consciousness  of  guilt  he  had  been  delivered ;  but  the  wit- 
ness of  his  adoption  was  necessary  to  complete  his  joy. 

It  was  not  till  the  5th  of  June,  1815,  that  he  was  enabled 
to  rejoice  in  this  long-sought  blessing.  On  that  day — a 
day  ever  memorable  in  his  history — as  he  was  returning 
from  his  private  devotions,  where  he  had  been  wrestling 
with  God  for  the  witness  of  the  Spirit,  light  broke  in 
upon  his  soul,  and  he  could  exclaim,  "  Abba,  Father,"  with 
an  unwavering  tongue.  The  power  of  the  tempter  was 
broken ;  his  doubts  were  all  gone.  A  divine  assurance — 
the  gift  of  the  Holy  Spirit — reigned  in  his  soul,  and  filled 
him  with  unspeakable  joy.  His  swelling  heart,  overflow- 
ing with  emotion,  gave  vent  to  its  transports,  while  he 
cried  aloud, — 

"My  God  is  reconciled; 

His  pard'ning  voice  I  hear; 
He  owns  me  for  his  child ; 

I  can  no  longer  fear : 
With  confidence  I  now  draw  nigh, 
And  Father,  Abba,  Father,  cry." 

But  before  obtaining  this  full  assurance  he  had  publicly 
dedicated  himself  to  Christ,  by  uniting  with  his  Church, 
and  boldly  advocating  his  cause.  He  joined  the  Methodist 


280  NOAH    LEVING8. 

Society  as  a  probationer  in  1813.  The  circumstances  are 
thus  related  by  the  venerable  minister  of  God  who  seems 
to  have  been  the  principal  instrument  of  his  conversion : — 
One  day  an  apprentice-boy,  in  his  blacksmith's  garb,  direct 
from  his  labour,  called  upon  him,  and  made  application  to 
be  received  into  the  society.  He  appeared  to  be  about 
sixteen  years  of  age ;  was  small  in  stature,  bashful  in  his 
address,  and  the  circumstances  of  his  introduction  were 
peculiar  and  somewhat  disadvantageous.  Yet  there  was 
something  so  unassuming  and  so  winning  in  his  manner,  so 
sincere  and  so  intelligent  in  his  whole  appearance  and  con- 
versation, that  a  very  favourable  impression  was  made 
upon  the  mind  of  the  preacher,  and  he  admitted  him  as  a 
probationer ;  at  the  same  time  giving  him  encouragement 
and  counsel.  On  the  following  Wednesday  night,  at  their 
public  prayer-meeting,  when  the  leading  members  had 
prayed,  and  it  was  nearly  time  to  dismiss  the  congregation, 
at  the  close  of  one  of  the  prayers  a  youthful  voice,  whose 
feminine  tones  were  scarcely  sufficient  to  fill  the  church, 
was  heard  some  two-thirds  down  the  aisle,  leading  in 
prayer.  The  prayer  was  feeling  and  appropriate,  but  short 
— so  short  as  to  be,  at  the  longest,  comprised  within  a 
minute.  As  the  preacher  passed  down  the  aisle,  his  black- 
smith boy  stood  at  the  end  of  the  seat,  waiting  to  grasp  his 
hand  with  Christian  affection.  On  the  next  Wednesday 
evening,  the  silvery  tones  of  the  same  youthful  voice  were 
again  heard,  near  the  close  of  the  meeting,  leading  in  its 
devotions.  At  this  time  he  prayed  with  more  fervour, 
more  compass  of  thought,  and  more  self-possession ;  and 
yet  his  prayer  was  not  more  than  a  minute  and  a  half. 
At  the  close  of  the  meeting,  as  the  official  brethren  gath- 
ered around  the  preacher,  one  inquired  who  that  boy  was ; 


NOAH    LEVINGS.  281 

another  said  his  forwardness  must  be  checked ;  and  a  third, 
that  he  must  be  stopped  altogether.  The  preacher  simply- 
replied,  "Now,  brethren,  let  that  boy  alone, — there  is 
something  in  him  more  than  you  are  aware  of;"  and  from 
that  time  no  one  questioned  the  right  of  the  young  black- 
smith boy  to  officiate  in  the  public  prayer-meetings. 

Such  were  the  public  beginnings  of  one  who  in  after 
years  became  eminent  as  a  minister  of  the  gospel,  distin- 
guished alike  for  the  ability  and  the  success  with  which  he 
preached  "  Christ  crucified."  Even  the  minister  of  God 
who  had  cherished  him  as  a  lovely  and  promising  youth, 
little  realized  the  chain  of  causes  he  was  setting  in  motion, 
and  the  results  that  would  grow  out  of  them.  He  had 
gathered  a  chance  jewel  from  among  the  cinders  of  the 
blacksmith's  shop ;  but  little  did  he  comprehend  the  rich- 
ness of  its  value,  or  the  transcendent  lustre  its  polished 
surface  would  assume.  So  often  does  God  make  "the 
weak  things"  of  earth  praise  him,  and  "  the  day  of  small 
things"  to  become  glorious  before  him. 

It  is  remarkable  that  the  two  eminent  servants  of  God, 
who  were  mainly  instrumental  in  his  conversion,  are  still 
in  the  effective  ranks,  enjoying  a  green  old  age,  cheered, 
loved,  and  honoured  by  their  brethren  who  have  grown  up 
around  them.  The  next  preacher  stationed  in  Troy  was 
the  Rev.  Tobias  Spicer.  To  the  instructions  of  this  emi- 
nently sound  and  judicious  minister,  as  well  as  to  those 
of  the  Rev.  Messrs.  Clark  and  Chichester,  the  young  dis- 
ciple was  much  indebted  in  his  early  Christian  history. 
He  says  (in  his  journal)  that  they  seemed  to  labour  less  to 
excite  a  momentary  feeling,  than  to  produce  a  solid  and 
permanent  religious  character;  one  that  would  be  most 
likely  to  withstand  the  shocks  of  temptation,  and  to 


282  NOAH    LEVINGS. 

accumulate  strength  through  every  period  of  its  future 
experience.  Nor  did  he  cease  to  acknowledge  his  obliga- 
tions to  these  men  of  God  till  his  dying  day.  Well  had  it 
been  for  thousands  of  sincere  and  susceptible  young  men, 
could  they  have  been  favoured  with  equally  competent  and 
judicious  advisers.  While  the  youthful  character  is  in  this 
transition  state,  the  influences  brought  to  bear  upon  it 
make  a  deep  and  generally  ineffaceable  impression;  and, 
for  weal  or  woe,  will  they  continue  to  bring  forth  life-long 
results.  The  proper  training  of  young  converts,  and  espec- 
ially of  young  men  in  the  Christian  Church,  is  a  work  of 
as  high  moment  in  the  magnitude  of  its  results  as  that  of 
the  mere  instrumentality  of  their  conversion.  For  the 
want  of  sound  Christian  nurture,  thousands  cease  to  be  of 
any  account  in  the  Church,  just  at  a  point  when  their 
usefulness  should  be  taking  direction  and  acquiring  char- 
acter. 

During  the  pastoral  labours  of  Mr.  Spicer  in  Troy,  there 
was  a  very  extensive  work  of  God  in  the  Church ;  so  ex- 
tensive that  the  membership  were  increased  from  a  hun- 
dred and  seven  to  two  hundred  and  fifty  during  the  two 
years.  The  church  edifice  was  small,  plain,  and  unimpos- 
ing ;  the  membership  were  few  in  number,  and  poor  in 
worldly  means — not  many  rich,  not  many  great,  not  many 
noble  were  found  among  them.  But  they  were  devoted  to 
God,  and  loved  one  another ;  and  God  put  honour  upon 
them,  making  them  to  abound  in  fruitfulness  and  joy. 
This  revival,  in  an  especial  manner,  awakened  the  zeal 
and  called  out  the  talents  of  young  Levings.  He  had  been 
converted  at  a  time  when  no  special  revival  was  in  prog- 
ress ;  and  the  awakening  and  conversion  of  such  multi- 
tudes seemed  to  fill  him  with  astonishment  and  wonder, 


NOAH    LEVING8.  283 

while  at  the  same  time  it  fired  his  own  heart  anew.  He 
had  already  become  an  efficient  teacher  in  the  first  Sab- 
bath school  established  in  Troy,  and  then  sustained  by  the 
different  denominations  of  evangelical  Christians.  While 
yet  in  his  minority  he  was  appointed  a  class-leader ;  and 
when,  at  the  Conference  of  1817,  the  Rev.  S.  Luckey  suc- 
ceeded Mr.  Spicer  in  charge  of  the  station,  he  gave  him 
license  to  exhort.  On  the  20th  day  of  December  follow- 
ing, being  then  a  few  months  over  twenty-one,  he  was  duly 
licensed  as  a  local  preacher  by  the  quarterly  conference  of 
the  station. 

Up  to  this  time  he  appears  to  have  had  no  distinct  idea 
of  entering  the  ministry.  He  had,  indeed,  an  ardent  desire 
to  do  all  he  could  for  the  glory  of  God  and  for  the  salva- 
tion of  men ;  but,  so  high  appeared  to  him  to  be  the  quali- 
fications necessary  for  a  Christian  minister,  and  so  small 
and  insignificant  did  his  own  appear  to  himself,  that  enter- 
ing the  sacred  office  seemed  entirely  out  of  the  question. 
His  mind  had  been  at  ease  under  this  view  of  the  subject ; 
but  now  it  came  up  before  him  in  a  new  and  stronger  light. 
He  was  out  of  his  apprenticeship ;  he  was  also  of  age ;  the 
responsibility  of  determining  his  future  course  now  de- 
volved upon  himself.  He  wished  to  do  right ;  he  had  an 
ardent  desire  to  do  good  ;  he  was  wedded  in  his  affections 
to  the  Church  of  God;  he  groaned  in  spirit  for  the  salva- 
tion of  a  dying  world.  And  yet  the  magnitude  of  the 
work,  the  fearful  and  far-reaching  nature  of  its  responsi- 
bilities, appalled  him.  After  many  struggles  of  mind,  he 
was  at  length  led  to  the  determination  to  follow  the  con- 
victions of  duty  and  the  openings  of  Providence.  Accord- 
ingly, on  the  7th  of  March,  1818,  his  license  to  preach  was 
renewed,  and  he  was  recommended  to  the  New- York 


284  NOAH    LEVINGS. 

Annual  Conference.  The  session  of  the  Conference  was 
held  in  May  following,  in  the  city  of  New-York.  He  was 
here  received  on  trial  and  appointed  to  the  Leyden  Circuit, 
having  the  Rev.  Ibri  Cannon  for  his  senior  preacher  and 
s  uperintendent. 

If  it  had  cost  him  a  struggle  to  decide  upon  entering  the 
ministry,  he  was  now  subject  to  a  trial  of  a  different  char- 
acter, but  scarcely  less  painful  to  youthful  sensibilities. 
He  had  been  appointed  to  a  distant  circuit*  and  must  now 
bid  adieu  to  the  home  and  the  cherished  friends  of  his 
youth.  And  then  the  prospect  before  him  was  by  no 
means  congenial  to  the  feelings  of  a  young  man  of  a  feeble 
constitution  and  a  timid  nature.  An  extensive  circuit, 
embracing  the  roughest  portions  of  Massachusetts,  and 
spreading  out  over  the  hills  of  Vermont — giving  promise 
of  long  rides  through  cold  and  mountainous  regions  and 
over  bad  roads,  and  also  of  much  labour  and  but  little 
worldly  reward — was  a  prospect  that  might  have  dis- 
heartened a  mind  of  less  nerve  or  a  soul  of  weaker  faith. 
But  he  had  put  his  hand  to  the  gospel  plough  ;  and  he 
could  say,  "None  of  these  things  move  me."  He  left 
home  for  his  appointment  the  day  after  he  received  it. 
After  a  ride  of  fifty  miles  on  horseback,  over  roads  ren- 
dered difficult  by  the  thawing  and  heaving  of  the  frost, 
having  crossed  the  Green  Mountains  and  descended  into 
the  valley  of  the  Deerfield  River,  in  a  spot  encircled  by 
mountains  covered  with  their  ancient  forests,  he  found 
himself  upon  the  borders  of  his  circuit.  Leyden  Circuit, 
in  1818,  included  all  that  tract  of  country  from  the  Green 
Mountains  on  the  west  to  the  Connecticut  River  on  the 
east,  embracing  portions  of  the  counties  of  Bennington  and 
Windham,  in  Vermont,  and  of  Franklin  and  Berkshire,  in 


NOAH    LEVINGS.  285 

Massachusetts.  Among  the  towns  and  villages  in  which 
he  and  his  colleague  preached,  were  Readsboro',  Whitting- 
ham,  Wilmington,  Halifax,  Guilford,  Yernon,  Brattleboro', 
Marlboro',  and  Dummerston,  in  Yermont;  and  Leyden, 
Bernardston,  Northfield,  Gill,  Shelburne,  Colerain,  Charlo- 
mont,  Rowe,  Monroe,  and  Florida,  in  Massachusetts. 
Dummerston  on  the  northern,  and  Shelbume  on  the  south- 
ern extremity  of  the  circuit  were  some  fifty  miles  apart. 
Northfield,  the  eastern  appointment,  was  on  the  east  side 
of  the  Connecticut  River ;  and  Florida,  the  western  limit, 
was  hid  among  the  Green  Mountains,  near  the  western 
border  of  the  State.  One  round  of  the  circuit  required  a 
ride  of  not  far  from  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles.  To 
traverse  this  region  at  all  seasons  of  the  year,  and  in  all 
kinds  of  weather,  was  no  light  undertaking.  But  to  preach 
and  lead  class  three  times  upon  the  Sabbath,  frequently 
riding  from  five  to  ten  miles  between  the  afternoon  and 
evening  appointments,  and  then,  after  long  rides  during  the 
day,  to  preach  several  evenings  in  each  week,  was  a  labour 
that  required  a  robust  constitution  and  a  determined  spirit. 
What,  but  the  love  of  souls,  could  have  constrained  these 
men  of  God  to  such  sacrifices  and  such  labours  ? 

The  modification  of  the  circuit  system  has  been  a  natural 
and  necessary  result  of  the  growth  and  increase  of  Method- 
ism. By  this  modification,  the  labours  of  the  preachers, 
so  far  as  it  regards  long  rides  and  frequent  exposures,  have 
been  much  abridged ;  without,  however,  abridging  in  the 
least  their  opportunities  of  labouring  to  build  up  the  king- 
dom of  Christ.  Restricted  as  may  now  seem  many  of  our 
little  stations,  or  "patches,"  as  they  have  been  sometimes 
called  by  way  of  derision,  when  compared  with  the  old 
circuits,  we  doubt  not  but  that  the  most  laborious  servant 


NOAH    LEVINGS. 

of  God  might  find  sufficient  to  do  in  them  to  employ  his 
whole  time  and  consume  his  whole  energy.  The  time 
necessarily  spent  formerly  in  accomplishing  the  long  rides 
of  the  circuit,  now  rigidly  devoted  to  earnest,  faithful  pas- 
toral visitation,  would  not  only  furnish  bodily  exercise,  but 
also  tell  in  its  influence  upon  the  spirituality  and  usefulness 
of  the  minister.  Nor  should  it  be  forgotten  that  the  pres- 
ent arrangement  of  our  stations,  as  well  as  the  increasing 
intelligence  of  our  people,  requires  an  amount  of  exhaust- 
ing intellectual  labour  utterly  impracticable  under  a  regime 
like  the  old  circuit  system.  Indeed,  such  a  system — ad- 
mirably adapted  as  it  is  to  a  country  sparsely  settled,  and 
to  the  culture  of  weak  societies  widely  scattered — becomes 
impracticable  in  a  densely  populated  religious  communion. 
It  is  one  of  the  glories  of  Methodism  that  in  all  its  economy, 
merely  prudential,  it  possesses  a  flexibility  that  will  ever 
adapt  it  to  its  changing  circumstances,  and  to  the  wants  of 
its  growing  communion.  If,  however,  any  one  should  be 
unable  to  satisfy  his  longings  for  amplitude  of  space  where- 
in to  exercise  his  powers,  we  advise  him  to  emigrate  to 
some  country  where  a  sparser  population  is  to  be  found ; 
to  decamp  forthwith  for  the  prairies  of  the  "West,  where 
his  powers  may  have  full  scope,  while  he  skirts  along  the 
vast  range  of  the  western  borders  of  civilization.  The 
moon-struck  wight,  who  now  sighs  for  the  good  old  days  of 
long-circuit  riding,  may  be  placed  in  the  same  category 
with  those  censors,  who,  making  war  upon  the  fashions  of 
this  degenerate  age,  would  have  us  go  back  to  the  buck- 
skin breeches  and  coon-skin  caps  worn  by  our  ancestors, 
when  forests  were  to  be  levelled  and  fields  cleared  for  the 
habitations  of  men. 

Upon  the  Leyden  Circuit  the  preacher  was  well  received : 


NOAH    LEVINGS.  287 

his  piety  and  sincerity  were  so  strongly  marked  that  they 
won  the  entire  confidence  of  the  people.  There  was  also 
a  timidity  in  his  manner,  and  an  exquisite  sensibility  in 
his  character,  which  took  strong  hold  upon  their  sympa- 
thies. When  standing  in  the  pulpit  he  was  often  unable 
to  look  his  congregation  in  the  face,  so  great  was  his  timid- 
ity ;  but  the  earnestness  of  his  zeal  and  the  deep  emotions 
of  his  soul,  often  expressed  by  the  tears  that  flowed  plenti- 
fully down  over  his  face,  found  a  response  in  the  hearts  of 
his  congregation.  The  growth  of  his  personal  piety  and 
the  cultivation  of  his  mind  were  objects  of  deep  interest  to 
him.  To  promote  the  former,  he  watched,  prayed,  fasted, 
and  meditated ;  he  studied  with  devout  attention  the  Holy 
Scriptures,  and  read  with  deep  interest  the  lives  of  holy 
and  devoted  servants  of  God,  that  he  might  understand 
their  character,  imitate  their  example,  and  be  imbued  with 
their  spirit.  Of  his  desire  to  improve  his  mind,  he  gave 
evidence  by  his  devotion  to  study  whenever  he  arrived  at 
one  of  those  delightful  homes  for  the  itinerant  scattered 
here  and  there  over  the  circuit,  and  where  he  rested  a  day 
or  two  to  recruit  his  exhausted  powers  for  new  fatigues. 
Solid  attainments  in  both  piety  and  learning,  he  felt  were 
indispensable  to  him  as  a  Christian  minister.  No  amount 
of  knowledge  or  sprightliness  of  talent  would,  he  knew, 
answer  as  a  substitute  for  sound,  genuine  piety.  Learning, 
unsanctified  by  religion,  unwarmed  by  love,  would  be,  like 
the  mountain  iceberg,  splendid  and  imposing  in  appearance, 
but  chilling  and  freezing  in  influence.  But,  on  the  other 
hand,  zeal,  and  even  a  well-intentioned  piety,  would  not  an- 
swer as  a  substitute  for  a  sound  knowledge  of  divine  things. 
It  was  under  the  influence  of  such  convictions  as  these, 
that  he  was  led  to  apply  himself  diligently  to  the  cultiva- 


288  NOAH    LEVINGS. 

tion  of  both  heart  and  intellect.  And,  no  doubt,  here 
among  the  hills  and  mountains  of  Leyden,  while  preaching 
to  small  and  unlettered  congregations,  gathered  for  the 
most  part  in  private  rooms  and  school-houses,  it  was  that 
he  laid  the  foundation  of  that  character  which  afterward 
bore  him  up  through  a  long  and  successful  ministry  in 
many  of  the  most  responsible  and  important  appointments 
within  the  wide  range  of  the  New-York  Conference. 
Many  young  men  have  set  out  with  as  good  promise  and 
as  high  hopes  as  the  subject  of  our  memoir;  but,  imagin- 
ing themselves  straitened  and  cramped  in  their  genius  by 
small  congregations  and  a  rude  field  of  labour,  have  flat- 
tered themselves  that  they  would  put  forth  their  energies 
when  assigned  to  more  responsible  and  prominent  posts. 
Thus  self-deceived,  and  lured  into  a  species  of  mental  dis- 
sipation, before  they  were  aware  of  it,  their  habits  have 
become  formed  and  their  mental  character  fixed;  and 
thenceforward,  though  the  goal  was  often  seen  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  a  spark  of  momentary  ambition  awakened,  it 
soon  subsided,  and  their  lives  flowed  on  in  one  sluggish 
and  unvarying  course.  One  of  our  most  eminent  divines 
and  eloquent  preachers  once  said  to  me,  that  many  of  his 
most  finished  and  effective  discourses  were  elaborated  while 
travelling  among  the  hills  of  upper  Pennsylvania,  and  were 
first  preached  to  congregations  of  ten  or  a  dozen  Germans 
gathered  into  log  school-houses.  Those  same  discourses 
have  since  been  listened  to  with  admiration  by  immense 
audiences  in  several  of  our  large  cities. 

The  spring  at  length  came,  and  the  session  of  Conference 
was  drawing  near.  The  young  itinerant  found  it  hard  to 
part  with  the  people  of  his  charge.  They  had  greeted  him 
in  their  dwellings,  and  stayed  up  his  hands  in  their  congre- 


HOAH    LEVINGS.  289 

gations.  When  dispirited  and  care-worn  they  had  cheered 
and  comforted  him ;  in  sickness  they  had  watched  over 
him  and  hailed  with  joy  his  returning  health  ;  and  together 
had  they  shared  the  common  sympathies  and  joys  of  the 
people  of  God.  He  had  suffered  in  his  long  rides  and 
fatiguing  labours ;  he  had  been  drenched  by  the  falling 
rain ;  he  had  been  chilled  by  the  piercing  cold  as  he  trav- 
ersed the  bleak  hills  of  his  circuit ;  by  night  as  well  as  by 
day  had  he  been  in  peril,  as  he  threaded  his  path  through 
miry  and  toilsome  ways.  But  the  very  scenes  of  his  toils 
and  his  trials  had  become  endeared  to  him  by  the  honour 
God  had  placed  upon  him,  and  the  favour  he  had  given 
him  in  the  eyes  of  the  people.  His  last  round  upon  his 
circuit  was,  no  less  to  the  people  than  to  himself,  an  affect- 
ing, weeping  time. 

On  the  29th  of  April  he  re-crossed  the  Green  Mountains ; 
and  on  the  1st  of  May  reached  the  city  of  Troy,  which  was 
to  be  the  seat  of  the  Conference  that  year.  His  welcome 
by  his  brethren  was  such  as  to  assure  him  that  he  had  not 
lost  his  place  in  their  affections.  The  next  day,  being  Sun- 
day, he  preached  to  a  crowded  house,  in  demonstration  of 
the  Spirit  and  with  power.  The  Conference  adjourned 
on  the  14th,  and  he  received  his  appointment  as  junior 
preacher  on  Pownal  Circuit.  It  was  but  sixteen  miles  dis- 
tant ;  and  the  evening  of  the  same  day  of  his  appointment 
found  him  within  the  bounds  of  his  charge.  This  was  to 
him  a  delightful  year,  spent  among  a  kind  and  loving  peo- 
ple. He  was  still  ardent  in  the  prosecution  of  his  studies 
and  earnest  in  the  cultivation  of  his  piety.  During  this 
year  he  had  deep  and  powerful  convictions  upon  the  sub- 
ject of  entire  sanctification ;  and  frequent  and  protracted 
were  his  struggles  for  the  attainment  of  this  blessing.  Nor 

19 


NOAH    LEVING8. 

were  those  struggles  in  vain ;  though  he  failed,  "  because 
of  unbelief,"  to  enter  into  that  glorious  rest,  his  piety  be- 
came more  deep,  solid,  and  ardent. 

In  1820  he  was  ordained  deacon  by  Bishop  George,  and 
appointed  to  Montgomery  Circuit.  This  year  exceeded  in 
toils  and  hardships  either  of  the  former  years  of  his  itine- 
rancy. His  health  became  so  enfeebled  by  labour  and  ex- 
posure, that  on  his  return  to  Troy  in  the  spring  his  friends 
were  greatly  alarmed,  and  all  regarded  him  as  already 
marked  for  an  early  grave.  Yet  he  received  his  appoint- 
ment, determined,  if  he  fell,  to  fall  at  his  post.  The  ap- 
pointment, Saratoga  Circuit,  proved  highly  favourable. 
He  recovered  his  health,  and  his  labours  on  the  circuit 
were  very  acceptable  and  -useful.  "While  on  Montgomery 
Circuit  he  had  been  united  in  marriage  to  Miss  Sarah 
Clark,  who,  after  sharing  with  him  the  varied  experience 
of  an  itinerant's  life  for  nearly  thirty  years,  is  left  in  lonely 
widowhood  by  his  demise. 

Near  the  close  of  his  year  on  Saratoga  Circuit,  the  pre- 
siding elder  of  that  district,  the  Rev.  D.  Ostrander,  com- 
municated to  him  that  the  bishop,  at  the  ensuing  Confer- 
ence, purposed  sending  him  to  the  northern  part  of 
Vermont.  This  information  he  had  left  with  the  presid- 
ing elder,  directing  him  to  communicate  it  just  before  the 
Conference,  so  that  he  might  have  an  opportunity  to  visit 
his  friends  and  make  preparations  for  removing ;  and  prob- 
ably, also,  that  his  mind  might  be  in  some  measure  pre- 
pared for  a  post  involving  much  labour  and  privation. 
The  reflections  of  the  young  minister  on  the  reception  of 
this  by  no  means  welcome  intelligence,  are  worthy  of  being 
preserved  as  illustrative  of  his  character,  and  of  the  princi- 
ples that  actuated  him  in  his  work : — 


NOAH    LEVINGS.  291 

"  It  is  understood  that  preachers  in  that  part  of  the  work 
fare  rather  poorly  with  regard  to  temporal  things.  This, 
with  some  other  considerations,  has  rendered  it  rather  an 
unwelcome  lot  to  many.  But  I  shall  interpose  no  objec- 
tion to  going.  For,  1.  It  is  purely  an  episcopal  appoint- 
ment. 2.  I  am  willing  to  take  my  share  of  the  hard  as 
well  as  the  pleasant  appointments.  3.  I  am  now  young, 
and  have  no  family  except  a  wife ;  and  we,  being  both 
young  and  in  good  health,  can  go  as  well  as  not, — at  any 
rate,  better  now  than  at  any  future  period.  4.  Having 
thrown  myself  upon  the  providence  of  God,  as  a  Methodist 
travelling  preacher,  it  would  illy  become  me  to  forestall 
that  providence  and  choose  for  myself.  5.  I  wish  at  all 
times  to  have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  I  am  in  the 
order  of  God,  and  then  I  can  go  to  him  at  all  times  with 
confidence,  for  relief  in  trouble  and  for  help  in  labour." 

Accordingly,  at  the  ensuing  Conference — having  been 
ordained  elder — he  was  sent  to  Middlebury,  Vermont. 
He  commenced  his  ministry  by  discoursing  from  the  text, 
"  We  preach  not  ourselves,  but  Christ  Jesus  the  Lord,  and 
ourselves  your  servants  for  Jesus'  sake."  And  this  text  he 
placed  before  himself  as  the  rule  or  formula  after  which 
his  ministrations  were  to  be  modelled.  The  people  re- 
ceived him  with  joy,  sustained  his  hands  in  the  work,  and 
his  labours  were  crowned  with  good  results.  The  next 
year  he  was  stationed  in  Burlington.  We  find  him,  while 
in  these  two  appointments,  still  intent  upon  improving  his 
mind  and  heart.  "  I  feel,"  he  would  exclaim,  "  the  want 
of  more  retirement  for  prayer  and  meditation,  and  for  a 
closer  application  to  study.  Nothing  but  a  closer  applica- 
tion to  study,  accompanied  with  much  prayer,  will  ever 
burst  the  bands  of  ignorance  and  darkness  from  my  mind. 


292  NOAH    LEVINGS. 

Nothing  but  this  will  enable  me  to  fathom  and  unfold  the 
depths  and  the  fulness  of  the  divine  word.  Nothing  but 
this  will  make  me  'a  workman  that  needeth  not  to  be 
ashamed,'  skilfully  and  successfully  preaching  the  '  gospel 
of  the  kingdom.'  How  much  have  I  yet  to  learn  of  God, 
of  myself,  of  my  duty,  of  my  privileges,  and  of  the  best 
manner  of  doing  good !  O  Lord,  teach  me  by  thy  Holy 
Spirit ;  and  help  me  to  be  diligent  in  all  things."  Such 
were  the  aspirations  of  the  youthful  minister !  Such  his 
longings  after  God!  Such  his  zeal  to  qualify  himself  to 
sustain  the  high  responsibilities  of  his  ministry ! 

Among  the  many  books  he  read  about  this  time,  was  the 
Life  of  Napoleon.  The  history  and  character  of  the  em- 
peror started  in  his  mind  a  problem  which  has  no  doubt 
often  troubled  many  a  devout  and  sincere  inquirer ;  and 
which  can  be  solved  only  by  a  sense  of  the  dimness  of  on* 
spiritual  vision  and  the  gross  sordidness  of  our  nature,  even 
under  the  most  favourable  circumstances.  When  men  are 
ready  to  make  such  sacrifices,  brave  such  dangers,  endure 
such  labours,  and  ever  manifest  such  sleepless,  untiring  zeal 
for  earthly  good,  the  possession  of  which  is  so  transitory, 
and  its  enjoyment  so  imperfect,  why  is  it  that  Christians, 
professing  to  believe  in  all  the  solemn  realities  of  eternity 
— the  enduring  bliss  of  heaven — are  so  feeble  and  languid 
in  their  efforts  to  secure  an  immortal  crown?  "Did  we 
but  labour  with  as  much  diligence  and  zeal  for  the  incor- 
ruptible, as  Napoleon  did  for  the  corruptible  crown,  what 
victories  over  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil  should 
we  achieve!  How  much  good  we  should  do,  and  how 
much  happiness  we  should  enjoy!" 

"While  at  Burlington  he  made  frequent  excursions  into 
the  neighbouring  towns  and  villages,  preaching  the  gospel 


NOAH    LEVINGS.  293 

with  varied  success.  He  would  often  leave  home  with  a 
range  of  appointments  for  each  evening  running  through 
two  weeks.  In  some  of  these  appointments  he  would  meet 
with  opposition,  in  others  a  hearty  welcome.  Sometimes 
his  preaching  was  in  demonstration  of  the  Spirit  and  with 
great  power,  so  that  the  breath  of  the  Lord  came  down, 
and,  in  a  mighty  gale,  swept  over  the  valley  of  dry  bones. 
These  evangelical  labours  he  prosecuted  with  even  more 
success  during  the  second  year  of  his  labours  in  Burling- 
ton ;  and  they  resulted  in  the  permanent  establishment  of 
Methodism  in  several  places.  So  fully  had  he  imbibed  the 
itinerant  spirit,  that  on  his  way  to  the  Conference  at  Malta, 
in  the  spring  of  1825,  he  took  a  circuit  through  Middle- 
bury,  Sandy  Hill,  Glenn's  Falls,  Amsterdam,  Funda's  Bush, 
and  several  other  places,  proclaiming  a  free,  full,  and  pres- 
ent salvation  in  every  place. 

His  next  two  years  were  spent  upon  the  Charlotte  Circuit, 
in  Yermont.  From  this  place  he  was  removed,  at  the  Con- 
ference of  1827,  to  the  city  of  New-York.  This  appoint- 
ment was  unsought  by  him.  So  far  from  it,  when  he 
learned  that  such  was  the  probable  result,  he  ventured  a 
request  to  the  bishop  to  appoint  him  to  some  other  portion 
of  the  work.  And  when  the  appointment  had  been  made, 
he  came  to  the  city  with  many  misgivings  and  with  much 
fear.  But  he  solaced  himself  with  the  reflection  that  the 
appointment  was  not  of  his  own  seeking ;  and,  therefore, 
should  he  fail,  on  that  ground  he  would  be  free  from  cen- 
sure. The  city  of  New-York  then  comprised  one  circuit 
with  seven  churches,  and  a  membership  of  three  thousand 
two  hundred  and  eighty-nine  persons.  The  churches  were 
those  now  known  as  the  John,  Forsyth,  Duane,  Allen, 
Bedford,  (then  Greenwich  Village,)  Seventh,  (then  Bowery 


'204:  NOAH    LEVINGS. 

Village,)  and  Willet-street  Churches.  Six  preachers  were 
stationed  in  the  city.  They  circulated  through  the  appoint- 
ments in  regular  order,  each  preaching  in  the  morning  in 
one  church,  in  another  in  the  afternoon,  and  in  a  third  in 
the  evening ;  thus  completing  the  circuit  in  a  little  over 
two  weeks. 

In  this  new  field  of  labour  the  popular  talent  of  Mr. 
Levings  found  ample  room  for  exercise,  and  abundant 
stimulus  to  call  it  forth.  His  discourses  were  characterized 
rather  by  brilliancy  than  depth  of  thought,  by  apt  and 
striking  illustration  rather  than  by  strength  of  reasoning. 
The  tenacity  of  his  memory  and  the  fluency  of  his  speech 
were  alike  remarkable.  He  never  wanted  for  words,  and 
his  superintendent  on  the  circuit,  "  representing  his  case " 
before  Conference,  said,  "  Brother  Levings  was  born  with 
words  on  his  tongue."  The  tones  of  his  voice  were  well 
managed  and  pleasing;  his  gesture  was  appropriate  and 
exceedingly  graceful ;  his  delivery  was  ardent,  while  at  the 
same  time  his  whole  manner  was  self-possessed.  These 
were  precisely  the  qualities  to  render  a  man  popular  in 
New- York.  Accordingly  his  congregations  were  crowded 
to  excess.  Numbers  followed  him  from  church  to  church, 
unwittingly,  perhaps,  violating  the  proprieties  of  the  Chris- 
tian Sabbath  and  of  the  worship  of  God  in  order  to  enjoy 
the  eloquence  of  their  favourite  preacher.  More  than 
twenty  years  have  passed  away  since  that  period,  and  yet 
I  find  many  who  still  retain  a  vivid  recollection  of  portions 
of  his  discourses,  and  of  the  effects  produced  upon  the  con- 
gregations by  them.  He  has,  during  this  period,  been  ac- 
cused of  catering  to  the  religious  enthusiasm  of  that  class 
of  excitable  persons,  whose  manifestations  of  piety  are  apt 
to  be  more  vociferous  than  practical.  What  foundation 


NOAH    LEVINGS.  295 

for  this  charge  his  preaching  at  that  day,  when  youthful 
enthusiasm  was  at  its  height,  may  have  afforded,  we  will 
not  undertake  to  say ;  or,  indeed,  how  far  his  ardent  zeal 
and  his  own  high  state  of  religious  enjoyment  may  have 
superinduced  these  results,  is  a  question  we  may  not  now 
profitably  discuss.  The  purity  of  his  Christian  and  minis- 
terial character  none  have  ever  doubted;  nor  have  any 
questioned  but  that  the  great  ends  of  the  gospel  ministry 
were  accomplished  through  his  labours. 

The  manner  in  which  he  felt  the  responsibilities  of  his 
work,  and  the  spirit  that  actuated  him  in  its  performance, 
may  be  best  seen  in  the  private  journal  of  his  labours  and 
experience.  In  his  record  of  September  7th,  for  this  year, 
he  says : — 

"For  some  weeks  past  I  have  felt  more  than  ever  the 
importance  of  the  work  in  which  I  am  engaged.  I  trust 
that  I  am  enabled  to  love  God  more  than  ever  before.  O 
that  my  heart  may  be  filled  with  supreme  love  to  Him  who 
is  my  life  and  my  salvation !  Blessed  be  the  Lord  God, 
my  heart  seems  more  and  more  taken  up  in  his  work !  I 
am  far  from  believing  that  raptures  are  a  sure  evidence  of 
deep  piety.  It  is  a  good  remark,  that  shallow  water  ripples, 
while  that  which  is  deep  generally  rolls  on  in  silence  and 
tranquillity.  If  I  have  my  will  subdued,  my  passions  gov- 
erned, and  my  affections  sanctified  and  set  on  things  above, 
then  have  I  evidence  of  a  deep  and  genuine  work  of  grace. 
O  Lord,  search  my  heart  and  know  me ;  see  if  there  be 
any  wicked  way  within  me,  and  lead  me  in  the  way  ever- 
lasting." 

On  another  occasion,  when  he  had  completed  his  thirty- 
first  year,  he  enters  into  the  following  train  of  reflec- 
tions : — 


296  NOAH    LEVING6. 

"  How  swiftly  do  the  years  fly  away !  How  soon  will 
eternity  be  my  everlasting  home!  How  stands  the  ac- 
count, let  me  inquire,  between  God  and  my  soul  ?  Where- 
in am  I  better  than  I  was  one  year  ago?  Do  I  love  God 
more  than  I  did  then  ?  Have  I  a  greater  deadness  to  the 
world,  or  a  greater  conformity  to  Christ  ?  Do  I  feel  more 
the  importance  of  the  work  in  which  I  am  engaged  ?  I 
have  much  reason  for  repentance  upon  all  these  points; 
and  yet  in  some  respects  I  trust  I  am  advancing  in  the 
divine  life.  Some  of  these  questions  I  believe  I  can  an- 
swer in  the  affirmative.  But  how  slow  my  progress !  I 
feel  myself  to  be  the  weakest  of  the  weak.  O,  for  divine 
grace  to  help  me  !  I  have  of  late  had  some  gracious  inti- 
mations of  the  divine  willingness  to  make  my  heart  His 
constant  home.  O,  when  shall  I  experience  all  the  fulness 
of  God?" 

Thus  do  we  find  this  servant  of  God,  in  the  full  tide  of 
his  popularity,  still  yearning  after  holiness  of  heart ;  still 
panting  for  full  redemption  in  the  blood  of  Christ.  Noth- 
ing could  seduce  him  from  his  allegiance  to  the  Saviour ; 
nothing  could  unsettle  him  in  his  determined  reliance  upon 
Christ. 

He  had  a  buoyancy  and  elasticity  of  spirit  that  some- 
times seemed  to  border  upon  lightness.  This  he  felt  to  be 
a  sore  temptation.  He  says : — 

"  The  Lord  knows,  and,  to  some  extent,  I  know,  that  I 
have  many  imperfections,  both  as  a  Christian  and  a  minis- 
ter. I  am  naturally  prone  to  be  unguarded  in  speech; 
especially  when  in  the  company  of  Christians  and  ministers. 
By  this  I  sometimes  inadvertently  offend  against  the  gene- 
ration of  God's  children.  This  often  wounds  my  heart  and 
wrings  it  with  sorrow.  May  God  forgive  and  help  me, 


NOAH    LEVINGS.  207 

that  I  offend  not  in  word ;  for  '  the  same  is  a  perfect  man, 
and  able  also  to  bridle  the  whole  body.' " 

We  admire  the  watchfulness  which  thus  led  him  to  write 
bitter  things  against  himself.  But  we  have  never  known 
in  him  a  breach  of  Christian  courtesy  to  his  brethren. 
And  though  possessed  of  a  lively  imagination,  fine  collo- 
quial powers,  and  an  inexhaustible  fund  of  anecdote,  .mak- 
ing him  a  most  interesting  social  companion,  yet  we  must 
say,  whatever  may  have  been  his  faults  in  earlier  life,  that 
we  have  always  found  this  exuberance  chastened  by  the 
most  sweet  and  lovely  Christian  spirit.  The  record  of  this 
temptation  in  his  journal  shows,  that  while  panting  for 
more  holiness  he  did  not  cease  to  watch  with  a  godly  jeal- 
ousy over  himself. 

During  the  fall  of  this  year  the  Rev.  Freeborn  Garrett- 
son  sickened  and  died  at  the  house  of  his  friend,  George 
Suckley,  in  the  city  of  New-York.  During  his  sickness  it 
was  the  privilege  of  our  brother  to  visit  him,  to  be  in- 
structed by  his  counsel,  and  cheered  by  his  resignation  and 
by  the  triumphs  of  his  faith.  Under  date  of  September 
17th  he  says : — 

"  This  morning  I  visited  the  venerable  Freeborn  Garrett- 
son,  who  lies  dangerously  ill  at  the  residence  of  George 
Suckley,  Esq.  He  is  faint,  yet  pursuing ;  and  I  trust  will 
make  a  good  and  glorious  end,  when  called  to  lay  down 
his  body  and  his  charge.  He  said,  '  I  have  given  up  my 
wife  and  daughter ;  my  treasure  is  in  heaven.'  Then  with 
uplifted  hands  he  exclaimed,  '  I  want  to  go  home  to  Jesus. 
There  is  nothing  below  worth  looking  upon.'  And,  ad- 
dressing himself  to  me,  he  said,  'Keep  straight  forward.' 
straight  forward.'  I  then  said,  l  Sir,  you  must  feel  at  this 
time  something  like  Simeon  of  old,  having  lived  to  see  the 


298  NOAH    LEVIXGS. 

salvation  of  God  these  thirty  or  forty  years  in  the  rise  and 
progress  of  Methodism  in  these  United  States.'  But  on  my 
expressing  some  fear  lest  we,  who  are  sons  in  the  gospel, 
should  suffer  the  work  to  decline  from  its  original  simplicity 
and  purity,  he  instantly  replied,  'You  will  stand,  and  do 
better  than  we  have  done.' " 

Nine  days  later  the  good  old  patriarch  departed  to  his 
rest.  The  dying  scene,  as  well  as  the  character  and  history 
of  this  old  veteran  of  Methodism,  seemed  to  make  an  in- 
effaceable impression  upon  the  mind  of  the  young  preacher; 
and  led  him  to  long  after  the  spirit  of  the  old  Methodist 
preachers,  and  to  desire  to  imitate  them  in  the  entireness 
of  their  devotion  and  the  abundance  of  their  labours. 
Like  Elisha,  he  prayed  that  the  mantle  of  the  departing 
man  of  God  might  fall  upon  him. 

At  the  Conference  of  1829,  Mr.  Levings  was  stationed  in 
the  city  of  Brooklyn.  During  this  year  his  family  was 
much  afflicted  with  sickness;  and  one  of  his  children, 
"  little  Charles  Wesley,"  was  taken  from  him.  His  feel- 
ings on  the  occasion  are  thus  expressed : — 

"  Shall  we  receive  good  and  not  also  evil  at  the  hand  of 
the  Lord? 

'  Thankful  I  take  the  cup  from  thee, 

Prepared  and  mingled  by  thy  skill; 
Though  bitter  to  the  taste  it  be, 

Powerful  the  wounded  soul  to  heal !' " 

He  was  returned  a  second  year  to  Brooklyn,  and  through- 
out the  period  of  his  stay  laboured  with  efficiency  and 
success.  During  this  second  year  he  accompanied  John 
Garrison,  Esq.,  on  a  pilgrimage  to  Salem,  New- Jersey,  to 
erect  a  monument  over  the  grave  of  that  distinguished  and 
holy  man  of  God,  Benjamin  Abbott.  At  the  Conference 
of  1831  he  was  elected  a  delegate  to  the  General  Confer- 


NOAH    LEVING8.  290 

ence,  and  appointed  to  New-Haven.  During  his  second 
year  in  New-Haven,  the  church  in  Fair  Haven  was  erected 
through  his  agency.  Finding  an  opening  there  to  do  good, 
he  undertook  to  erect  a  small  building  for  a  prayer  and 
lecture  room ;  but  the  subscription  soon  became  so  large 
that  he  felt  warranted  in  the  erection  of  a  church.  In  this 
enterprise,  however,  he  was  greatly  afflicted  by  the  opposi- 
tion of  some  from  whom  he  had  looked  for  assistance  and 
encouragement.  This  not  only  wounded  his  feelings,  but 
in  a  measure  crippled  his  energies.  However,  he  went 
forward  in  the  name  of  the  Lord;  and,  being  nobly  sus- 
tained by  one  or  two  brethren,  he  carried  the  enterprise  to 
so  favourable  an  issue,  that  when  the  church  had  been 
completed,  and  was  committed  to  a  board  of  trustees,  the 
debt  upon  it  amounted  to  but  one  hundred  and  ninety  dol- 
lars. Soon  after,  the  society  in  that  place  was  organized 
into  an  independent  station,  and  have  continued  to  main- 
tain themselves  as  such  until  the  present  day. 

His  success  in  New-Haven  was  not  such  as  to  afford  him 
much  satisfaction ;  and  he  regarded  his  labours  there  with 
almost  as  much  pain  as  pleasure.  At  their  close,  he  was 
led  to  review  the  cause  of  this  want  of  success.  This  he 
did  with  deep  feeling  and  with  much  prayer.  As  his  re- 
flections may  be  applicable  to  other  societies,  and  withal 
are  suggestive  of  important  considerations,  we  insert  them 
in  brief,  premising  that  we  have  no  reason  to  believe  them 
to  be  more  applicable  to  that  particular  society  at  the  pres- 
ent day  than  to  any  other.  The  following  he  regarded  as 
the  prominent  causes  of  the  want  of  success  and  of  pros- 
perity in  the  society : — 

"1.  Want  of  greater  zeal,  piety,  and  faithfulness  on  the 
part  of  the  preacher. 


300  NOAH     LEVINGS. 

"2.  Divisions  and  party-spirit  among  the  members  of 
the  Church. 

"  3.  "Want  of  union,  brotherly  love,  and  Christian  for- 
bearance among  the  official  members. 

"  4.  Neglect  of  the  leaders  in  visiting  the  members  of 
their  respective  classes. 

"  5.  Neglect  of,  or  an  irregular  attention  to,  the  prayer- 
meetings  by  the  official  members. 

"  6.  Disaffection  among  some  (very  few,  I  trust)  to  the 
institutions  of  the  Church." 

One  of  the  evidences  of  this  disaffection  on  the  part  of 
certain  persons,  was  the  fact,  that  whatever  was  written 
and  published  by  disaffected  persons  abroad,  would  soon 
find  its  way  into  their  hands,  and  seem  to  find  a  ready 
response  from  their  hearts ;  and  by  them  be  circulated 
among  other  members  of  the  Church  with  great  industry. 
Whatever  assailed  the  Church  seemed  to  be  regarded  by 
them  with  more  interest  than  that  which  was  written  for 
its  vindication. 

These  are  great  evils  in  a  Church ;  and,  wherever  they 
exist  to  any  extent,  they  furnish  a  powerful  obstacle  to  its 
religious  prosperity.  They  will  neutralize  the  most  devoted 
and  self-sacrificing  efforts  of  the  Christian  minister.  He 
may  preach  with  "  the  tongues  of  men  and  of  angels ;"  but 
the  word,  to  a  great  extent,  must  remain  fruitless.  The 
last  cause  mentioned  might  seem  to  indicate  an  undue  and 
selfish  jealousy  on  the  part  of  the  preacher.  But  we  are 
bold  to  say,  that  whenever  a  restless  dissatisfaction  has 
crept  into  a  society  or  Church,  its  members  themselves  are 
the  main  sufferers  by  it.  Persons  affected  by  this  spirit, 
well-intentioned  and  pious  as  they  may  be,  see  everything 
in  a  wrong  light.  They  may  continue  to  adhere  to  the 


KOAH    LEVINGS. 

Church ;  but  their  feelings  are  not  cordial ;  their  labours 
are  not  hearty,  nor  yet  in  faith.  The  hands  of  the  minister 
and  of  the  other  members  are  weakened  by  them.  Through 
them  the  Church  has  no  unity,  no  strength,  and  no  success. 
And  then  the  very  want  of  success  becomes  an  occasion  of 
more  bitter  complaint ;  and  too  often  is  regarded  as  con- 
firmation strong  of  the  justice  of  their  prejudice  and  dis- 
affection. Thus,  as  it  is  said  of  jealousy,  the  spirit  they 
possess  creates  the  food  upon  which  it  feeds  and  by  which 
it  is  nourished.  This  is  the  natural  result  of  disaffection  in 
a  Church ;  and  sometimes  it  requires  years  of  toil  to  repair 
the  damage  wrought  in  a  few  months.  Nor  are  those 
societies  few  in  number  which  have  received  shocks  from 
which  they  never  recovered. 

Mr.  Levings  took  but  little  part  in  the  deliberations  of 
the  General  Conference  in  1832,  being  summoned  home, 
on  account  of  the  sickness  of  his  wife,  soon  after  its  com- 
mencement. The  Troy  Conference  was  this  year  organ- 
ized, comprising  the  northern  portion  of  the  former  New- 
York  Conference.  To  accommodate  the  work,  it  became 
necessary  to  transfer  him  to  this  Conference  the  next  year, 
and  he  was  appointed  to  Garrettson  Station,  Albany.  At 
first  he  yielded  a  reluctant  assent  to  the  transfer — heeding 
the  saying,  A  prophet  is  not  without  honour,  sa/oe  in  his 
own  country,  and  among  his  own  Tcin ;  but  his  reception 
was  so  cordial  among  the  people,  and  God  opened  his  way 
so  graciously,  that  he  soon  felt  the  change  to  be  in  the  order 
of  Divine  Providence. 

He  had  been  absent  from  this  region  six  years,  during 
which  time  he  had  filled  three  heavy  and  responsible  ap- 
pointments. His  desire  for  mental  improvement,  and  espe- 
cially to  enlarge  the  sphere  of  his  theological  knowledge, 


302  NOAH    LEVING8. 

continued  unabated.  Besides  extended  studies  in  the  Evi- 
dences of  Kevealed  Eeligion,  and  in  Systematic  Divinity, 
he  had  given  considerable  attention  to  Greek  and  Hebrew. 
But  his  progress  in  these  latter  studies  was  retarded  by  his 
necessary  attention  to  pastoral  and  ministerial  duties.  He 
seemed  to  act  upon  the  principle  of  Wesley :  "  Getting 
knowledge  is  a  good  thing,  but  saving  souls  is  a  better." 
Not  that  he  would  pervert  the  maxim  into  an  apology  for 
the  neglect  of  study ;  but  in  all  his  studies  he  would  not 
forget  that  the  grand  object  of  them  should  be  to  make 
him  more  skilful  and  more  successful  in  winning  souls  to 
Christ.  And  while  he  husbanded  the  fragments  of  his 
time  for  the  acquisition  of  knowledge,  he  did  not  forget 
that  the  duties  of  the  pastoral  office  had  a  paramount  claim. 
During  this  period  also  he  had  repeated  calls  to  dedicate 
churches,  and  to  deliver  missionary  and  Bible  addresses. 
In  these  efforts  he  uniformly  acquitted  himself  as  a  work- 
man that  needed  not  to  be  ashamed.  Two  of  his  dedica- 
tion sermons  were  published,  and  are  very  creditable  speci- 
mens of  pulpit  eloquence. 

His  labours  in  Albany  were  greatly  blessed,  and  he  re- 
turned a  net  increase  of  one  hundred  and  six  members  to 
the  next  Conference.  During  the  year  he  had  also  visited 
various  places  without  the  bounds  of  his  charge,  preaching 
the  word  of  life  with  power  and  success.  In  1834  he  was 
stationed  in  Troy :  thus,  after  sixteen  years'  absence  from 
the  society  which  raised  him  up,  and  from  which  he  went 
forth  to  preach  the  word  of  life,  he  was  returned  to  them  as 
their  pastor.  In  his  weakness  they  had  watched  over  him ; 
they  had  counselled,  encouraged,  and  prayed  for  him. 
While  yet  a  stripling  they  had  sent  him  forth  into  the 
vineyard  of  the  Lord  with  their  benedictions  upon  his  head ; 


NOAH    LEVING8.  303 

and  now,  in  the  maturity  of  his  strength,  he  came  back  to 
repay  their  kindness,  and  to  devote  his  energies  to  the 
building  of  them  up  in  the  Lord.  To  the  people,  though 
he  had  been  absent  so  long,  he  seemed  as  one  of  them- 
selves. They  received  him  with  joy,  laboured  with  him 
in  harmony,  and,  at  the  end  of  his  two  years,  were  parted 
from  him  with  deep  sorrow.  He  was  a  delegate  to  the 
General  Conference  of  1836,  held  in  Cincinnati,  and  was 
distinguished  no  less  by  the  amenity  of  his  deportment, 
than  by  his  judicious  and  conservative  course  in  regard  to 
the  profoundly  important  and  exciting  subjects  that  came 
before  that  body. 

At  the  ensuing  Annual  Conference  he  was  stationed  in 
Schenectady.  The  society  here  had  just  erected  a  new 
and  beautiful  church,  and  Methodism  was  assuming  a 
position  and  an  importance  in  the  place  that  it  had  not 
previously  had.  Accordingly,  in  entering  upon  his  charge, 
he  felt  that  a  great  responsibility  rested  upon  him.  The 
character  of  Methodism  in  the  place  was  to  receive  a  new 
stamp,  and  the  work  of  God  a  new  impulse ;  its  altered 
and  improving  circumstances  required  the  development 
and  right  direction  of  new  elements  of  moral  power. 
Entering  upon  his  work  with  these  views  and  feelings,  he 
prosecuted  it  with  unwearied  diligence  and  with  great  suc- 
cess. The  congregation  was  greatly  increased  in  numbers, 
and  also  improved  in  character.  The  membership  of  the 
Church  rose  from  one  hundred  and  ninety-one  to  three 
hundred  and  fifteen ;  and  to  his  services  Methodism  is  not 
a  little  indebted  for  its  character  and  standing  even  at  the 
present  day. 

During  the  two  years  spent  in  this  place  he  dedicated 
seven  churches,  one  of  which  was  the  Seventh-street  Church 


NOAH    LEVINGS. 

in  New-York  city.  He  also  delivered  a  great  number  of 
special  sermons,  as  well  as  missionary,  Bible,  and  temper- 
ance addresses.  The  performance  of  so  much  labour 
abroad,  while  at  the  same  time  his  flock  were  not  neg- 
lected at  home,  shows  that  he  was  a  man  of  untiring  in- 
dustry as  well  as  of  great  activity.  In  the  spring  of  1837 
he  was  called  to  dedicate  a  church  in  Hinesburgh,  Ver- 
mont, under  very  interesting  circumstances.  Eleven  years 
before,  while  on  the  Charlotte  Circuit,  he  had  formed  a 
small  society  in  that  place ;  a  weak  and  sickly  plant,  he 
hedged  it  around,  and  fostered  it  by  his  labours  and  his 
prayers,  yet  doubtful  of  its  existence  and  growth.  But, 
watered  from  on  high,  it  had  taken  root,  grown  up,  and 
become  a  vigorous  tree.  The  little  society  had  now 
erected  a  house  in  which  to  worship  God;  and  he,  who 
had  been  the  apostle  of  God's  grace  to  their  souls,  was 
called  to  perform  the  solemn  service  of  consecration.  The 
recollections  of  former  seasons  and  of  former  toils  were 
vividly  awakened  in  his  mind  by  this  visit.  Greatly  did 
he  rejoice  to  find  that  the  bread  cast  abroad  upon  the 
waters  had  been  gathered  after  many  days,  and  that  his 
work  had  not  been  in  vain  in  the  Lord. 

While  in  Schenectady,  Mr.  Levings  had  the  good  fortune 
to  become  personally  acquainted  with  Dr.  Nbtt,  President 
of  Union  College.  In  him  he  found  a  kind  friend,  and  a 
judicious,  able  counsellor ;  and  not  unfrequently  did  the 
doctor  assist  him  in  his  work.  At  the  invitation  of  the 
president,  Mr.  Levings  preached  to  the  students  in  the  col- 
lege chapel,  and  his  discourse  was  well  received  and  highly 
spoken  of.  Indeed,  so  favourable  was  the  impression  made, 
that,  subsequently,  while  stationed  in  Albany,  he  was  in- 
vited to  perform  a  similar  service.  The  estimate  of  his 


NOAH    LEVING8.  305 

talents  and  acquirements  formed  by  Dr.  Nott,  was  after- 
ward expressed  in  a  very  significant  manner ;  as,  on  his 
recommendation,  the  college  over  which  he  presided  con- 
ferred on  Mr.  Levings  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity. 

For  some  cause  or  other,  some  of  the  society  in  Schenec- 
tady  were  very  much  opposed  to  the  preacher  appointed 
by  the  Conference  to  succeed  him.  Seeing  only  evil  to  the 
society,  as  well  as  to  the  preacher,  in  this  opposition,  his 
generous  heart  impelled  him  to  throw  himself  between  the 
people  and  preacher,  and  his  fertile  mind  readily  found  a 
way  to  do  it  effectually.  He  reached  home  on  Saturday, 
and,  while  the  tones  of  discontent  and  dissatisfaction  were 
heard  all  around  him,  he  entered  the  pulpit  the  next  day, 
(the  preacher  not  having  arrived,)  and  preached  in  the 
morning  from:  "But  his  citizens  hated  him,  and  sent  a 
message  after  him,  saying,  We  will  not  have  this  man  to 
reign  over  us."  Luke  xix,  14.  In  the  afternoon  he  took  for 
his  text :  "  Who  hath  believed  our  report  ?  and  to  whom 
is  the  arm  of  the  Lord  revealed  ?"  Isa.  liii,  1.  Those  who 
have  marked  the  fertility  of  his  mind,  the  facility  with 
which  he  adapted  himself  to  circumstances,  can  well  con- 
ceive how  these  two  subjects  were  employed  on  this  occa- 
sion. Suffice  it  to  say,  no  murmur  of  discontent  was  after- 
ward heard.  The  preacher  was  well  received,  laboured  in 
harmony  with  the  people,  and  the  result  of  his  first  year's 
labour  was  a  net  increase  of  seventy-five  members  ;  and  a 
year  later  the  same  society  reported  to  the  Conference  a 
membership  of  four  hundred  and  fifty,  showing  a  net  in- 
crease of  one  hundred  and  thirty-five  in  two  years.  How 
much  better  for  the  society  than  to  run  upon  the  rock  on 
which  so  many  societies  have  literally  "  split !"  In  the  re- 
jection of  a  minister,  it  is  rarely  the  case  that  he  is  the 

20 


306  NOAH     LEVINGS. 

only  sufferer ;  often  divisions  and  heart-burnings  grow  out 
of  it,  distrust  is  engendered,  and  years  elapse  before  the 
Church  recovers  from  the  self-inflicted  evil.  "We  say  "  self- 
inflicted,"  because  we  have  found  that  these  objections 
often,  if  not  generally,  arise  from  unfounded  prejudices  or 
false  views  ;  and,  at  best,  a  violent  remedy  will  almost  in- 
variably prove  to  be  a  worse  evil  than  that  which  it  seeks 
to  cure. 

At  the  Conference  of  1838  Mr.  Levings  was-  appointed 
presiding  elder  of  Troy  District.  At  the  ensuing  Confer- 
ence, however,  he  was  removed  from  the  district,  being 
succeeded  by  the  Rev.  T.  Spicer,  and  appointed  to  the 
North  Second-street  charge  in  the  city  of  Troy.  On  an- 
nouncing the  change  to  the  Conference,  the  bishop  paused 
in  reading  the  appointments,  and  stated  that  he  had  not 
made  this  change,  1st.  Because  brother  Levings  had  re- 
quested it ;  for  he  had  not.  2d.  Nor  because  he  con- 
sidered him  incompetent  to  the  charge  of  the  district. 
3d.  Nor  because  he  had  been  unfaithful  in  discharging  the 
duties  of  the  district ;  for  in  both  these  respects  he  had  the 
fullest  satisfaction  from  both  preachers  and  people  on  the 
district.  4th.  But  the  change  was  made  because  brother 
Levings  was  wanted  for  another  field  of  labour.  This 
change  brought  him  again  into  the  midst  of  a  people  to 
whom  he  was  strongly  attached,  and  by  whom  he  was 
greatly  beloved.  Not  only  were  they  strongly  devoted  to 
him,  but  they  fulfilled  the  divine  injunction:  "Love  one 
another."  They  were  united  and  faithful ;  and  the  year 
was  one  of  signal  blessings — the  return  made  to  Confer- 
ence showing  a  net  increase  of  one  hundred  and  twenty 
members. 

From  this  station  he  was  transferred,  at  the  Conference 


NOAH    LEVINGS.  3U7 

of  1840,  to  Division-street,  Albany,  where  he  spent  the  two 
succeeding  years.  During  the  summer  of  this  first  year  he 
was  greatly  afflicted  with  the  loss  of  a  much-loved  daugh- 
ter. She  died  after  an  illness  of  only  a  few  days,  aged  a 
little  over  five  years.  He  had  lost  other  children,  but  this 
was  emphatically  the  child  of  his  heart ;  and  to  part  witli 
her,  he  says,  "  was  one  of  the  severest  trials  of  his  life." 
For  some  months  previous  to  her  death,  she  had  frequently 
spoken  of  dying  and  going  to  be  with  her  Saviour,  and  with 
her  little  twin  sister  who  had  died  when  but  a  little  more 
than  a  year  old.  She  often  sang,  with  apparently  deep 
feeling,  the  verse  commencing, — 

"What  is  this  that  steals  upon  my  frame  ? 
Is  it  death,  is  it  death  ?" 

Thus  exhibiting  a  maturity  of  intellect  and  of  faith,  uncom- 
mon at  so  early  an  age,  the  little  sufferer  passed  sweetly 
away  to  her  rest.  From  very  childhood  she  had  been  the 
companion  and  friend  of  her  father,  an  angel  of  love  hover- 
ing around  him,  a  sunbeam  from  heaven  shining  upon  his 
path.  Painful  was  the  visitation,  deeply  was  he  chastened ; 
but  salutary  did  he  feel  the  discipline  to  be. 

From  Albany  he  was  removed  to  Troy,  and  again  sta- 
tioned in  the  State-street  Church.  At  the  close  of  this 
year,  it  was  generally  desired  by  the  preachers,  and  also 
by  many  of  the  people,  that  Mr.  Levings  should  again  be 
returned  to  the  district.  To  this,  however,  he  had  insuper- 
able objections,  founded  not  upon  considerations  of  personal 
expediency,  but  upon  principle.  This,  combined  with  other 
circumstances,  induced  him  to  ask  a  transfer  to  the  New- 
York  Conference,  which  request  was  granted,  and  he  was 
again  appointed  to  New- York  city,  to  labour  in  the  Yestry- 


308  NOAH     LEVINGS. 

street  charge.  The  cordial  welcome  he  received  on  his  first 
arrival,  and  the  tokens  of  continued  affection  from  his  peo- 
ple, were  the  source  of  peculiar  satisfaction  to  him,  and 
greatly  encouraged  him  in  his  work. 

At  the  General  Conference  of  1844,  the  Rev.  E.  S.  Janes, 
who  for  several  years  had  filled,  with  distinguished  ability, 
the  office  of  Financial  Secretary  of  the  American  Bible 
Society,  was  elected  a  bishop  in  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church.  In  the  June  following,  Dr.  Levings  was  elected 
to  the  office  made  vacant  by  Mr.  Janes's  resignation.  The 
Church  with  whom  he  had  been  labouring  but  one  year 
being  strongly  attached  to  him,  and  quite  unwilling  to  give 
him  up,  he  was  continued  in  the  charge  another  year.  He 
had,  therefore,  during  the  year  to  perform,  as  best  he  could, 
the  duties  both  of  his  pastoral  work  and  his  secretaryship. 
It  was  a  year  of  great  labour.  A  man  of  less  activity  and 
endurance,  or  of  less  flexible  mind,  would  have  found 
himself  inadequate  to  the  task.  In  addition  to  his  home 
labours,  he  visited,  during  the  year,  four  or  five  Annual 
Conferences,  presenting  before  them  the  claims  of  the  Bible 
cause;  and  delivered  over  thirty  Bible  addresses  before 
various  societies  in  different  parts  of  the  country.  Not- 
withstanding these  extra  efforts,  he  continued  to  labour 
with  great  acceptability  and  success  in  his  pastoral  charge ; 
and  when  the  term  of  his  service  closed  in  Yestry-street, 
he  made  a  grateful  record  of  God's  mercy  in  sustaining 
him,  and  in  giving  him  favour  among  the  people,  and  suc- 
cess in  his  ministry. 

Being  now  released  from  his  charge,  he  devoted  himself 
entirely  to  the  duties  of  his  office,  and  to  the  interests  of  the 
American  Bible  Society.  Of  his  travels  and  labours  for 
three  succeeding  years  we  have  no  authentic  and  definite 


NOAH    LEVINGS.  309 

account,  aside  from  the  minute  of  the  places,  times,  and  sub- 
jects of  his  discourses.  No  entry  was  made  in  his  diary 
subsequently  to  the  closing  of  his  pastoral  relation  with  the 
Yestry-street  people.  It  is,  however,  generally  known  that 
he  devoted  himself  with  unceasing  assiduity  to  promote  the 
interests  of  the  Bible  cause.  He  performed  long  and  toil- 
some journeys,  visiting  almost  every  section  of  the  country, 
and  presenting  the  claims  of  the  society  before  ecclesiastical 
bodies,  and  addressing  numerous  local  auxiliaries.  At  the 
same  time  also  a  burden  of  correspondence,  relating  to  local 
agencies  and  the  financial  operations  of  the  society,  rested 
upon  him. 

During  the  fall  of  1847,  while  on  an  extensive  tour 
through  the  Western  and  South-western  States,  he  con- 
tracted a  dysentery  from  the  use  of  the  water  on  the  west- 
ern rivers.  He  reached  home  very  much  enfeebled  in 
health,  and  for  two  or  three  months  was  unable  to  resume 
his  labours.  Indeed,  for  the  most  of  that  time  he  was  con- 
fined to  his  house  and  bed ;  and,  during  some  part  of  it,  it 
was  doubtful  whether  he  would  ever  be  restored  again  to 
health.  God,  however,  graciously  raised  him  up  ;  and  he 
was  again  permitted  to  go  forth  to  labour  in  his  Master's 
vineyard.  During  this  sickness,  the  writer  of  this  sketch 
repeatedly  visited  him.  The  seasons  of  conversation  and 
of  prayer  enjoyed  at  this  time  will  long  be  remembered. 
He  possessed  the  same  buoyancy  of  spirit  and  sprightliness 
that  ever  characterized  him ;  nor  had  his  fund  of  amusing 
and  instructive  anecdote  failed.  He  was  indeed  himself ; 
but  he  exhibited  a  maturity  of  faith  and  a  depth  of  piety 
that  seemed  to  augur  a  speedy  termination  of  his  earthly 
pilgrimage.  His  constitution  never  recovered  fully  its 
former  vigour ;  but  he  was  able  still  to  discharge  the  duties 


310  NOAH    LEVINGS. 

of  his  office  with  efficiency  through  the  spring  and  summer 
of  1848. 

In  the  fall  of  that  year  the  interests  of  the  Bible  Society 
demanded  of  him  another  tour  through  the  South-western 
States.  He  left  home  with  much  reluctance,  and  under 
great  depression  of  spirits,  having,  and  expressing,  a  deep 
presentiment  of  evil.  Yet  with  his  usual  vigour  he  prose- 
cuted his  work ;  during  the  months  of  October  and  No- 
vember he  travelled  nearly  four  thousand  miles,  visiting 
the  Tennessee,  Memphis,  and  Mississippi  Conferences, 
preaching  eighteen  sermons,  and  delivering  nine  addresses. 
He  was  subject  to  much  inconvenience  on  some  parts  of 
his  route,  owing  to  the  rainy  weather  and  the  bad  condition 
of  the  roads.  On  one  route  he  spent  three  days  and  three 
nights  in  a  stage,  travelling  over  roads  almost  impassable. 
The  last  night  two  of  the  wheels  sunk  up  to  the  hub  in  the 
mire,  and  the  coach  was  nearly  overturned.  There  were 
nine  grown  persons  and  two  children  inside,  who  were 
obliged  to  get  out  and  stand  upon  the  ground,  while  the 
rain  was  pouring  down  upon  them,  till  the  driver  had  un- 
harnessed one  of  the  horses  and  ridden  half  a  mile  to  obtain 
a  gang  of  negroes  to  pry  up  the  carriage.  This  occupied 
nearly  two  hours.  Under  such  exposures  his  health  began 
to  fail  during  the  latter  part  of  November.  But  he  perse- 
vered in  his  mission  till  the  24th  of  December,  when  he 
preached  in  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  Natchez.  This 
was  his  last  public  discourse. 

On  the  succeeding  day  he  wrote  a  letter  to  his  family  in 
New-York.  This  letter  is  full  of  tenderness  and  affection. 
He  tells  them  that  he  felt  it  would  be  wrong  longer  to  with- 
hold from  them  the  fact  that  he  was  in  a  very  feeble  state 
of  health.  In  addition  to  other  diseases  which  had  hung 


NOAH     LEV  INGS.  311 

about  him,  he  had  been  subject  to  several  severe  attacks 
of  asthma,  involving  sympathetically,  if  not  organically, 
the  action  of  the  heart.  His  nightly  rest  was  broken  and 
disturbed,  and  he  was  reduced  to  a  great  degree  of  bodily 
weakness.  He  had  purposed  visiting  the  Louisiana  Con- 
ference, but  his  health  would  permit  him  to  proceed  no 
farther.  He  now  only  thought  of  reaching  his  home,  and 
had  many  misgivings  whether  he  should  ever  accomplish 
that.  The  most  expeditious  and  safe  route  homeward  was 
by  the  way  of  the  Mississippi  and  Ohio  Rivers ;  and  even 
this  route  was  not  at  this  time  without  its  difficulties.  The 
cholera  was  raging  in  New-Orleans  with  great  violence,  and 
every  boat  that  came  up  numbered  a  catalogue  of  victims 
on  the  passage.  Those  who  died  by  day  were  secretly  car- 
ried on  shore  in  the  night,  and  roughly  entombed  in  the 
bank  of  the  river.  Nor  could  the  sick  and  dying  expect 
much  attention  or  care ;  and,  indeed,  the  cold  and  damp 
state-rooms  of  the  boats  furnished  but  poor  accommoda- 
tions for  the  sick  in  any  case. 

With  him,  however,  there  seemed  no  alternative ;  and 
on  the  29th  of  December  he  took  passage  on  the  steamboat 
Memphis  for  Cincinnati.  The  boat  was  six  days  on  her 
passage ;  she  was  crowded  with  passengers,  and  many 
were  sick  and  dying  with  the  cholera.  His  sufferings  on 
the  voyage  were  greatly  alleviated,  and  his  mind  comforted, 
by  the  kind  attentions  of  a  Christian  brother,  Mr.  Elisha 
Payne,  of  Madison,  Indiana.  He  also  received  medical 
advice  and  assistance  from  a  Dr.  Sale,  who  happened  to  be 
a  passenger  on  the  boat.  It  was  indeed  a  gloomy  passage, 
and  he  frequently  expressed  the  apprehension  that  he  would 
never  live  to  reach  his  home.  This  was  an  object  dear  to 
his  heart ;  and  his  highest  earthly  wish  seemed  to  be  that 


NOAH    LEVINGS. 

he  might  die  in  the  bosom  of  his  family.  However,  he 
was  calm  and  resigned;  and,  for  the  most  part,  retained 
his  accustomed  cheerfulness  and  buoyancy  of  spirit. 

At  length  he  reached  Cincinnati ;  and,  at  the  house  of 
his  devoted  friends,  brother  and  sister  Burton,  he  found  a 
welcome  home.  Ten  years  before  he  had  been  their  pastor 
in  the  east ;  he  had  united  them  in  the  sacred  bonds  of 
matrimony ;  he  had  been  their  friend  and  counsellor  in 
times  of  affliction  and  trial.  Their  hearts,  as  well  as  their 
house,  were  now  open  to  receive  him.  Like  ministering 
angels  they  hovered  around  him  in  his  last  earthly  afflic- 
tion. Sweet  and  yet  mournful  was  the  task  of  our  brother 
and  sister ;  they  performed  the  last  sad  offices  due  to  de- 
parting worth ;  they  ministered  to  his  last  earthly  want, 
listened  with  inexpressible  sorrow  to  his  last  farewell, 
closed  his  dying  eyes,  and  forsook  him  not  till  his  dust  had 
been  gathered  to  its  kindred  dust.  O,  there  are  green 
spots  upon  our  earth,  where  human  affection  and  sympathy 
shine  forth  with  heavenly  lustre !  Priceless  is  their  value ! 
It  is  grateful  to  record  them.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Strickland, 
one  of  the  agents  of  the  American  Bible  Society,  was  also 
with  him  night  and  day ;  and  a  numerous  circle  of  friends 
rejoiced  in  the  opportunity  to  minister  to  him  in  his 
affliction. 

His  sufferings  were  great,  but  in  the  midst  of  them  all 
he  enjoyed  perfect  peace ;  and  signal  was  his  triumph, 
through  grace,  in  the  last  conflict.  "When  he  found  that 
the  great  object  of  earthly  desire — to  see  his  family  once 
more  in  the  flesh  and  to  die  among  his  kindred — could  not 
be  realized,  he  only  exclaimed,  "The  will  of  the  Lord  be 
done."  On  the  Sabbath  evening  preceding  his  death, 
being  asked  if  he  realized  strong  faith  in  Christ,  he  replied, 


NOAH    LEVING8.  813 

"  O  yes,  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  the  strength  of  my  heart, 
and  my  portion  forever.  I  die  in  the  faith  of  the  gospel." 
On  one  occasion,  when  he  was  sitting  up,  brother  Burton 
placed  a  large  Bible  to  support  his  head,  that  he  might 
breathe  more  easily.  Observing  the  letters  upon  the  back, 
he  exclaimed,  "Thou  blessed  book,  lamp  to  my  feet  and 
light  to  my  path ;  thou  guide  of  my  youth,  directory  of  my 
manhood,  and  support  of  my  declining  years ;  how  cheer- 
less would  this  world  be,  were  it  not  for  thy  divine  revela- 
tions and  Christian  experience !"  After  his  will  had  been 
signed,  he  said,  "  Thank  God,  one  foot  is  in  Jordan,  and  I 
shall  soon  cross  over."  When  Bishop  Morris  reached  the 
city,  and  hastened  to  the  bedside  of  his  dying  friend,  he 
said  to  him,  "  Thank  God  that  I  am  permitted  to  see  your 
face  once  more.  I  am  not  able  to  converse  much,  but  I 
can  still  say,  '  Glory  to  God.' "  The  bishop  inquired  if  he 
had  any  message  to  send  to  his  brethren  of  the  New- York 
Conference.  "Tell  them,"  said  he,  "I  die  in  Christ ;  I  die 
in  the  hope  of  the  gospel.  Tell  them  I  have  a  firm,  un- 
shaken confidence  in  the  atoning  sacrifice  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  as  the  foundation,  and  only  foundation,  of 
my  hope  of  eternal  life ;  and,  relying  upon  that  foundation, 
all  before  me  is  light,  and  joyful,  and  glorious."  In  him 
was  most  gloriously  realized  the  sentiment  of  the  great 
apostle  :  To  live  is  Christ,  Imt  to  die  is  gain.  With  a  firm 
faith  in  his  Redeemer,  and  an  unclouded  view  of  heaven, 
he  passed  in  peace  and  triumph  to  his  everlasting  reward. 
The  last  words  he  uttered  were  on  the  occasion  of  Mr. 
Burton's  children  being  presented  to  receive  his  dying 
blessing.  Taking  each  by  the  hand,  he  said,  "  God  bless 
the  dear  children,  and  make  them  holy." 

Between  nine  and  ten  o'clock  on  the  evening  of  the  9th 


314:  NOAH    LEVINGS. 

of  January,  surrounded  by  sympathizing,  praying  Christian 
friends,  he  expired.  On  the  following  Thursday  his  funeral 
was  attended  by  a  large  concourse  of  people,  embracing 
many  of  the  clergy  in  Cincinnati  and  its  vicinity.  And, 
after  an  impressive  sermon  by  Bishop  Morris,  his  remains 
were  deposited  in  the  city  cemetery ;  but  subsequently  re- 
moved to  the  Wesleyan  Cemetery,  where  the  Young  Men's 
Bible  Society  of  Cincinnati  propose  to  erect  a  suitable 
monument  to  his  memory.  Subsequently,  a  funeral  dis- 
course was  delivered  by  Bishop  Morris  before  the  New- 
York  Conference,  and  was  requested  for  publication  by 
that  body.  The  preachers'  meetings  in  Cincinnati  and 
New-York,  the  Board  of  Managers  of  the  Young  Men's 
Bible  Society  of  Cincinnati,  and  also  that  of  the  American 
Bible  Society,  and  various  other  associations,  passed  reso- 
lutions expressive  of  their  high  estimate  of  his  character 
and  worth. 

Few  men  have  been  more  generally  beloved  within  the 
sphere  of  their  labours,  and  few  have  been  more  sincerely 
lamented  in  their  death,  than  Dr.  Levings.  His  manner 
was  affable  and  winning ;  his  heart  was  warm  and  gener- 
ous ;  his  mind,  naturally  fertile  and  lively,  and  stored  with 
an  inexhaustible  fund  of  anecdote,  coupled  with  a  reten- 
tive and  ready  memory,  a  brilliant  imagination,  a  striking 
aptness  at  comparison,  and  fine  colloquial  powers,  made 
him  a  most  delightful  companion  in  social  life.  If  these 
peculiarities  of  character,  strongly  marked  in  him,  some- 
times made  him  appear  more  light  and  jocose  than  was 
befitting  the  ministerial  office,  and  especially  to  age  and 
superior  standing  in  it,  there  were  at  least  redeeming  con- 
siderations to  be  found  in  the  artlessness  and  sincerity  of 
his  piety,  and  the  sacred  veneration  in  which  he  ever  held 


NOAH     I.EVINGS.  315 

divine  things.  He  was  an  almost  universal  favourite 
among  his  brethren  in  the  ministry.  And  few  ministers 
have  left  behind  them,  in  the  congregations  where  they 
have  ministered,  a  larger  number  of  strongly  attached 
personal  friends. 

The  cast  of  his  mind,  it  would  be  inferred  from  what  has 
already  been  said,  was  not  that  which  grapples  with  pro- 
found truths  and  evolves  mighty  thoughts ;  but  rather  that 
which  would  take  the  popular  and  practical  view  of  things. 
His  reasonings  generally  were  of  this  tone  and  character ; 
and  yet  his  sermons  were  well  digested,  and  presented  clear 
and  forcible  exhibitions  of  divine  truth.  His  performances 
were  almost  exclusively  extemporaneous ;  he  rarely  com- 
mitted more  than  a  very  brief  skeleton  to  paper.  His 
mind,  however,  was  a  storehouse  of  facts  and  illustrations, 
and  also  clear  in  its  perceptions)  and  tenacious  in  its  reten- 
tion of  truth.  His  tongue  was  like  the  "  pen  of  a  ready 
writer;"  and  he  was  never  at  a  loss  for  appropriate  lan- 
guage in  which  to  give  utterance  to  his  thoughts.  He 
combined,  in  an  unusual  degree,  close  argumentation  with 
apt  and  striking  illustration  and  an  animated  and  attractive 
delivery.  His  personal  appearance  was  such  as  would 
naturally  make  a  very  good  impression,  his  manner  was 
self-possessed,  the  intonations  of  his  voice  well  managed, 
and  his  gesture  easy  and  appropriate.  His  preaching  ex- 
hibited none  of  those  overwhelming  strokes  of  eloquence 
which  mark  the  oratory  of  some  distinguished  men ;  but, 
when  his  energies  were  aroused  and  called  into  action,  his 
discourses  everywhere  sparkled  with  the  richest  gems. 
Indeed,  few  could  hear  him  at  any  time  without  being 
pleased,  instructed,  and  even  powerfully  impressed.  But 
the  highest  honour  placed  upon  his  ministry  was  the  emi- 


316  NOAH     LEVINGS. 

nent  success  with  which  God  crowned  it,  in  making  him  the 
instrument  of  turning  multitudes  from  darkness  to  light, 
and  from  the  power  of  sin  to  the  service  of  God. 

Such  was  the  man  whose  history  and  character  are  but 
inadequately  sketched  in  this  paper.  He  has  now  ceased 
from  his  labours  and  gone  to  his  reward.  Multitudes  had 
been  blessed  by  his  ministry  ;  some  of  whom — dear  in  his 
memory — had  before  him  entered  into  rest.  Did  they  not 
welcome  him  to  the  partnership  of  their  joys  on  high  ?  He 
has  gone  to  rejoin  them,  gone  to  behold  again  the  loved 
Martha  Ann, — "  child  of  his  heart," — whose  sweet  spirit 
passed  away  with  the  summer  flowers  of  1840.  He  died 
as  the  Christian  minister  might  wish  to  die — mature  in  the 
graces  of  the  Spirit,  fresh  from  the  battle-fields  of  the  cross. 
Those  who  had  been  blessed  by  his  ministry  accompanied 
him  with  prayers  and  tears  down  to  the  brink  of  Jordan ; 
those  who  had  gone  before,  joyfully  welcomed  him  over. 
Thus,  in  the  maturity  of  his  strength  and  in  the  height  of 
his  usefulness,  a  brother  has  been  called  away,  a  standard- 
bearer  in  Israel  has  fallen. 

He  was  licensed  to  preach  on  the  20th  day  of  December, 
1817,  and  died  on  the  9th  of  January,  1849 ;  consequently, 
he  sustained  the  ministerial  office  a  little  more  than  thirty 
years.  During  that  time  he  officiated  in  eighteen  differ- 
ent appointments ;  preached  nearly  four  thousand  sermons ; 
dedicated  thirty-eight  churches ;  delivered  sixty-five  miscel- 
laneous addresses ;  and,  finally,  travelled  thirty-six  thousand 
five  hundred  and  thirty-nine  miles,  and  delivered  two  hun- 
dred and  seventy-three  addresses  in  behalf  of  the  American 
Bible  Society.  But  the  best  of  all  was,  his  life  and  ministry 
were  crowned  with  the  divine  blessings,  and  his  dying  mo- 
ments with  the  divine  glory. 


sf* 


©lin. 


AT  home  in  his  father's  house, — sick,  feverish,  and  restless, 
— lies  the  successful  candidate  for  the  highest  honour  of  his 
Alma  Mater.  Esteemed  by  his  instructors,  beloved  by  his 
associates,  and  envied,  he  has  won  the  prize  fairly  and  hon- 
estly. No  one  questions  the  righteousness  of  the  verdict 
which  assigns  the  valedictory  to  STEPHEN  OLIN.  But  it  is 
not  for  him,  and  another  receives  the  plaudits  of  the  assem- 
bled multitude,  while  he  lies  there  taking  the  first  slow 
draught  from  the  bitter  cup  of  disappointment,  pressed  so 
frequently  to  his  lips  in  after  years. 

With  an  iron  constitution,  and  an  indomitable  strength 
of  will,  he  had  disregarded  the  admonitions  of  those  who 
watched  over  him,  allowed  himself  little  respite  from  his 
books,  and,  grudgingly,  very  short  seasons  of  relaxation. 
Thus  he  reached  the  object  of  his  ambition,  while  sowing 
insensibly  the  seeds  of  suffering.  In  his  stalwart  frame 
they  have  already  taken  deep  root,  and  are  not  to  be  erad- 
icated until  that  corruptible  shall  have  put  on  incorruption. 

One  more  warning  for  the  youthful  student — an  addi- 
tional beacon  to  be  crowded  in  upon  the  highway  of  litera- 
ture! It  might  have  been  otherwise?  Certainly.  There 
are  maxims  in  the  theory  of  education  which,  observed, 
conduce  to  the  health  of  the  body,  and  to  physical  strength, 


318  STEPHEN    OLIN. 

no  less  certainly  than  their  neglect  tends  to  disease,  and 
pain,  and  a  premature  grave.  We  can  imagine  him  to 
have  secured  his  object  without  the  loss  of  health  ;  to  have 
poured  forth  in  that  coveted  valedictory  a  flood  of  eloquence 
which  should  very  nearly  have  satisfied  himself,  and  more 
than  justified  the  expectations  of  those  who  even  then  pre- 
dicted for  him  a  large  share  of  political  honours  and  emol- 
uments. And  what  then?  Truly  there  is  no  answer  to  that 
question.  In  any  event,  and  under  any  circumstances, 
Stephen  Olin  would  have  been  a  great  man ;  and  it  is  pos- 
sible that  from  that  hour,  wafted  by  the  breath  of  popular 
applause,  and  intoxicated  with  its  incense,  his  career  might 
have  been  onward,  until  he  had  almost  gratified  that  bound- 
less ambition  which,  in  his  own  words,  "would  have  bar- 
tered a  seat  in  heaven  for  a  seat  in  Congress." 

And  lie  might  have  had  a  seat  in  Congress.  In  the  lan- 
guage of  one  of  his  classmates,  "  Had  he  been  blessed  with 
health,  few  men  would  have  been  his  superiors.  His  name 
would  have  added  new  lustre  to  the  splendid  catalogue  of 
Edwards,  Marshall,  Dwight,  Calhoun,  and  Webster,  and 
would  have  obtained  a  high  place  in  the  scroll  of  fame." 
But  Christ  had  more  important  work  for  the  ambitious 
student,  and  in  store  for  him  something  better  and  more 
glorious  than  his  own  hopes  had  pictured,  or  his  admiring 
friends  foretold.  He  was  even  then  showing  him  how  great 
things  he  must  suffer  for  His  name's  sake ;  giving  him 
there  upon  his  sick  couch  to  feel  the  vanity  of  his  aspira- 
tions,— his  first  lesson  in  that  science  which  estimates  all 
things  at  their  true  value,  and  by  diligence  in  which  the 
names  of  its  disciples  are  written,  not  on  the  scroll  of  fame, 
but  "  high  up  "  in  the  book  of  life. 

At  his  entrance  upon  his  collegiate  course  he  was  seep- 


STEPHEN     OLIN.  81!) 

tical  on  the  subject  of  Christianity,  and  so  he  continued 
until  near  its  close.  He  was  not  indeed  an  open  and  avowed 
infidel,  nor  was  he  guilty  of  gross  immoralities ;  but  he  was 
sarcastic  and  keenly  witty  on  the  subject  of  experimental 
religion.  He  loved  to  laugh  at  the  imperfections  of  pro- 
fessing Christians.  His  laughter  was  contagious,  his  face- 
tiousness  irresistible ;  and  it  was  remarked  that  his  was  the 
only  class  that  passed  through  college  without  the  conver- 
sion of  some  one  of  its  members.  The  books  which  he  read, 
either  as  a  prescribed  duty,  or  for  mental  relaxation,  tended 
to  confirm  his  scepticism,  until,  in  his  senior  year,  the 
graceful  rhetoric  of  Paley,  and  the  stern  logic  of  Butler, 
took  captive  his  powerful  intellect,  and  compelled  him  to 
admit  the  truth  of  revealed  religion.  But  his  heart  was 
unaffected.  "  I  knew,"  says  he,  "  that  I  could  not  prove, 
and  that  nobody  had  proved  the  Bible  false,  or  that  there 
is  no  hell ;  but  I  had  deliberately  made  up  my  mind  that 
I  never  would  trouble  myself  about  it." 

And  but  for  that  sickness,  in  all  human  probability,  his 
mind  would  have  continued  thus  "  made  up."  There,  he 
not  only  had  leisure  for  reflection,  but  was  compelled  to 
think.  His  plans  for  the  future  were  all  deranged;  and, 
although  he  did  not  share  in  the  fears  of  those  who  watched 
around  him  that  he  was  about  to  die,  yet  were  his  thoughts 
turned  upon  the  grave,  and  the  unknown  realms  beyond  it. 
At  length  the  crisis  was  passed ;  and  with  health  somewhat 
restored,  but  with  a  troubled  spirit,  in  opposition  to  the 
wishes  of  his  father  he  left  his  home,  journeyed  toward  a 
more  genial  clime,  and  took  charge  of  a  newly-established 
seminary  in  a  sparse  settlement  in  the  interior  of  South 
Carolina. 

•'  Does  the  new  teacher  open  the  school  with  prayer  ?" 


320  STEPHEN    OLIN. 

A  startling  question.  It  was  asked  by  the  parent  of  one 
of  his  pupils,  at  a  house  where  the  teacher  was  boarding, 
and  overheard  by  him  as  he  sat  reading  in  an  adjoining 
room.  To  open  the  school  with  prayer!  He  had  not 
thought  of  that  as  a  part  of  the  duty  expected  from  him. 
How  could  he  pray  ?  Owing  to  a  peculiar  theory  of  his 
mother's,  he  had  never  been  taught  to  repeat  eve»  those 
blessed  words  prescribed  by  the  Lord  Jesus.  She  was  a 
woman  of  unquestioned  piety,  and  a  member  of  a  Christian 
Church ;  but  her  creed  taught  that  none  but  the  regenerated 
might  approach  the  throne  of  grace.  How  could  he  pray? 
And  yet  he  felt  the  expectation  to  be  reasonable  and  right 
on  the  part  of  those  who  had  committed  to  his  guardianship 
the  destiny  of  their  little  ones.  After  a  severe  struggle  be- 
tween duty  and  inclination,  he  resolved  to  meet  their  wishes. 
He  composed  and  committed  to  memory  a  form  of  words 
which,  after  reading  a  chapter  from  the  Bible,  he  repeated, 
day  after  day,  in  the  hearing  of  his  scholars. 

A  more  direct  and  more  disquieting  question  troubled 
him  soon  afterward.  He  was  at  a  little  prayer-meeting  in 
the  house  of  a  Methodist  local  minister,  where,  after  others 
had  engaged  in  calling  upon  God,  it  was  asked  in  a  gentle 
whisper,  "  Will  the  teacher  please  to  pray  with  us  ?"  Had 
a  thunderbolt  fallen  at  his  feet  it  might  have  startled  him 
more,  but  would  not  have  affected  him  so  powerfully,  nor 
made  so  deep  and  lasting  an  impression.  It  was  like  the 
still  small  voice  heard  by  the  prophet,  when  the  wind,  and 
the  earthquake,  and  the  fire  had  passed  away,  "What 
doest  thou  here,  Elijah?"  And  he,  fresh  from  the  land  of 
the  pilgrims,  the  educated  Kew-Englander  who  had  come 
among  this  simple-hearted  people  to  train  the  minds  of 
the  young  immortals  committed  trustingly  to  his  charge, 


STEPHEN    OLIN.  321 

with  his  one  stale  stereotyped  form  of  words,  what  did  he 
there — there  among  that  little  company,  met  in  the  great 
Master's  name  to  pray? 

Of  course  he  declined  the  invitation ;  but  the  still  small 
voice  followed  him,  and  he  had  no  rest  day  nor  night. 
The  arrows  of  the  Almighty  were  within  him,  the  poison 
whereof  drank  up  his  spirit.  For  weeks  he  continued  in 
agony  bordering  upon  despair.  Under  the  shade  of  a  large 
tree,  which  is  still  pointed  out  as  Olin's  Bethel,  the  strong 
man  humbled  himself  as  a  little  child,  and  day  after  day 
with  cries  and  tears  wrestled  with  the  God  of  Jacob,  and — 
HE  blest  him  there.  The  transition  was  instantaneous,  like 
the  flashing  glory  of  the  noon-day  sun  upon  the  darkness  of 
midnight.  Old  things  had  passed  away — behold,  all  things 
had  become  new. 

The  following  is  his  own  simple  and  touching  statement, 
as  given  in  a  letter  to  one  of  his  friends : — 

"  I  used  to  begin  each  day  with  prayer  in  my  school ; 
and  as  this  was  an  exercise  to  which  I  was  pretty  much 
unaccustomed,  I  often  practised  in  the  woods,  to  acquire  a 
propriety  of  tone  and  expression.  After  a  little  time,  I 
came  to  believe  myself  as  sincere  as  anybody  else ;  I  even 
professed  myself  a  Christian.  During  two  or  three  months 
of  this  sort  of  life,  every  day  increased  my  stupidity  and 
my  guilt.  All  at  once,  without  any  visible  means,  my 
callous  heart  was  smitten  with  such  compunction  and 
agony  as  I  cannot  describe.  I  felt  the  hand  of  God  upon 
me.  Sometimes  in  despair,  and  always  wretched,  my 
nights  were  passed  in  tears  and  prayers.  I  dared  not  dis- 
continue my  religious  exercises  in  school,  and  in  them  my 
feelings  often  rose  too  high  to  be  concealed.  Yet  my  pride, 
and  the  peculiar  circumstances  in  which  I  was  placed  by 

21 


322  STEPHEN    OLIN. 

my  false  pretensions  to  piety,  would  not  permit  me  to  dis- 
close the  state  of  my  feelings.  I  groaned,  and  prayed,  and 
wept  alone.  It  was  on  the  20th  of  September  (1821)  that 
the  blessed  Jesus  poured  the  oil  and  the  wine  into  my 
wounded  spirit.  It  was  a  glorious  moment — a  happy  mo- 
ment !  I  passed  from  hell  to  paradise.  I  was  filled  with 
speechless  exultation,  and  a  considerable  time  elapsed  be- 
fore I  could  believe  that  I  was  in  my  right  mind.  Blessed 
be  God !  I  still  feel  the  sacred  flame  glowing  within  me. 
Cherish  it,  O  thou  Source  of  everything  good  and  perfect, 
till  the  sin  of  my  heart  be  consumed,  and,  a  brand  plucked 
from  the  burning,  my  voice  shall  join  with  those  who  cease 
not  to  ascribe  glory  and  dominion  to  the  Lamb  that  was 
slain!" 

From  that  hour  all  thoughts  of  worldly  greatness  died 
within  him.  In  his  own  words,  he  was  "  cured  of  that  over- 
weening, damning  ambition  which  had  blinded  his  eyes, 
and  brought  him  to  the  brink  of  ruin."  The  political 
arena,  the  legislative  hall,  the  ermine  of  the  judiciary 
faded  from  his  vision,  and  his  eye  was  fixed  upon  that  cen- 
tral glory  of  the  universe — the  cross  of  Christ.  In  ponder- 
ing the  question,  To  what  branch  of  the  Church  shall  1 
attach  myself?  he  asked  not,  Where  shall  I  meet  the  most 
refined  associates,  or  how  may  I  journey  most  gracefully 
through  this  wilderness ?  "  I  j oined  the  Methodist  Church," 
he  says,  "because  I  believed  their  doctrines  were  those  of 
the  Bible,  their  practice  truly  Christian.  I,  however,  carried 
with  me  strong  prejudices  against  some  of  their  peculiarities, 
and  determined,  as  soon  as  I  could  have  access  to  an  Epis- 
copal Church,  to  become  a  member  of  it,  as,  on  the  whole, 
more  congenial,  in  principle  and  practice,  with  my  feelings 
and  opinions.  I  was  led,  however,  to  examine  the  matter 


BTEPHKX    OLIN.  323 

seriously  and  conscientiously,  and  this  examination  has 
resulted  in  a  full  determination  to  remain  in  the  Methodist 
Church.  I  believe  them  to  be  a  more  humble  and  a  more 
holy  people.  *  *  *  I  am  sure  I  can  be  more  useful 
among  them,  and  an  instrument,  I  hope,  of  getting  more 
souls  to  heaven.  This,  with  me,  decides  the  matter.  The 
humiliations,  the  labours,  the  poverty,  the  reproaches,  do 
not  terrify  me." 

Having  settled  this  question,  he  never  faltered  in  his 
attachment,  but  devoted  himself  with  a  zeal  that  never 
wearied,  and  a  love  that  never  grew  cold,  to  promote  the 
best  interests  of  the  Church  of  his  choice.  Not  that  he 
became  a  bigot,  or  allowed  himself  to  be  blinded  by  the 
subtle  dust  of  sectarian  prejudice.  He  was,  during  his 
whole  life,  a  model  of  large-hearted  catholicity,  and  was 
frank  in  the  declaration  of  the  sentiment  that  "  the  sorest 
evil  which  presses  upon  the  American  Churches — the 
chiefest  obstacle  to  their  real  prosperity  in  holiness  and 
usefulness — is  the  spirit  of  sectarianism." 

"  Bigotry,"  he  says,  on  another  occasion,  "  is,  in  my  de- 
liberate opinion,  one  of  the  chief  obstacles  in  the  way  of 
the  gospel — one  of  the  devil's  main  engines  to  carry  for- 
ward his  warfare  against  the  kingdom  of  God.  From  the 
depths  of  my  soul,  I  loathe  the  miserable  sectarianism,  by 
whatever  name  called,  which  keeps  Christ's  disciples  at 
variance !  I  would  abandon  my  own  denomination  without 
hesitancy  if  it  refused  to  recognise  others  as  true  Churches 
and  true  ministers  of  Christ." 

But  while  he  avowed  his  hostility  to  that  spirit,  and  de- 
nounced it  on  all  proper  occasions,  he  had  little  sympathy 
for  the  men  who  know  nothing  of  that  endearing  intimacy, 
that  heart-communion,  by  which  the  faithful  of  every 


STEPHEN     OLIN. 


denomination  are  linked  together  ;  and  by  which  they  are 
impelled,  not  to  love  others  less,  but  their  own  more.  He 
prized  the  peculiarities  which  distinguished  the  people  of 
his  own  communion,  and  was  ever  ready  to  uphold  and 
defend  them,  while  at  the  same  time  he  saw  the  excel- 
lences of  others,  and  gave  them  all  due  honour.  But  he, 
especially  if  he  were  a  minister,  who,  under  any  specious 
pretext,  forsook  his  own  fold  for  another,  —  the  renegade,  — 
was  ever  an  object  of  his  utter  contempt,  mingled  indeed 
with  pity,  when,  in  the  judgment  of  charity,  such  an  emo- 
tion might  be  deemed  justifiable. 

As  is  almost  universally  the  case  with  the  young  con- 
vert, his  first  desire,  after  he  found  his  own  feet  placed 
upon  the  Rock,  was  to  make  known  to  his  relatives  and 
friends  how  great  things  the  Lord  had  done  for  him,  and 
invite  them  to  a  participation  of  the  same  blessedness. 
Some  of  the  letters  which  he  addressed  at  this  time  to 
those  near  his  heart  are  models  of  faithful  earnestness  and 
eloquent  entreaty.  Among  those  to  whom  he  thus  wrote 
were  two  young  men  who  had  been  his  fellow-students, 
and  who,  he  had  reason  to  suppose,  had  been  hardened  in 
a  course  of  sin  by  his  own  example  at  college  ;  and  it  is 
remarkable  that  both  of  them  soon  after  embraced  the 
Saviour  and  became  preachers  of  the  gospel  —  the  one  in 
the  Protestant  Episcopal,  the  other  in  the  Congregational 
Church.  The  latter  gentleman,  in  relating  the  circum- 
stance, says  :  "  It  was  a  most  faithful  letter  —  a  model  of 
Christian  fidelity  and  friendship,  and  truly  characteristic 
of  the  nobleness  of  his  spirit.  It  is  worth  vastly  more 
than  anything  I  can  write  respecting  him.  That  it  had 
a  great  influence  in  producing  a  change  in  myself  is 
certain." 


STEPHEN    OLIN.  325 

It  is  not  wonderful,  therefore,  that  in  after  years  he  who 
had  been  by  God's  blessing  so  successful  in  the  first  efforts 
of  his  religious  letter-writing,  should  have  dwelt  frequently 
upon  the  good  effects  likely  to  result  from  thus  following 
the  dictates  of  the  Spirit,  and  that  he  should  have  urged 
the  performance  of  the  duty  in  his  own  impressive  style. 
Beautifully  and  truthfully  he  says,  and  the  sentiment,  as 
we  have  seen,  was  founded  upon  his  own  experience: — 
"The  glow  and  outbursting  joyous  gratitude  of  the  new- 
born soul,  the  fervours  of  his  first  love,  the  fresh  lustre 
of  his  beautiful  garments,  become  potent  agencies  for 
good,  and  no  more  pleasant  incense  than  his  ever  rises  up 
to  heaven." 

Yery  soon  after  uniting  with  the  Church  he  was  invited 
occasionally  by  one  of  the  itinerant  ministers  to  go  with 
him  to  his  appointments  on  the  Sabbath,  and  to  close  the 
service  by  exhortation  and  prayer.  His  exercises  of  this 
kind  were,  from  the  first,  strikingly  impressive,  and  the 
young  exhorter  was  soon  licensed,  according  to  the  forms 
of  the  Church,  to  preach  the  gospel.  His  first  regular 
sermon,  although,  in  fact,  his  exhortations  had  all  been 
sermons,  was  delivered  at  a  quarterly  meeting  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  his  school-room,  and  gave  bright  promise 
of  what  the  Church  might  expect  from  one  so  gifted  and 
so  entirely  bent  upon  doing  his  Master's  will.  It  was  lumi- 
nous, energetic,  and,  at  times,  overwhelming.  "  Never  in 
the  memory  of  the  oldest  Methodists  had  so  powerful  a 
preacher  burst  with  so  sudden  a  splendour  and  tremendous 
an  effect  upon  the  Church."  Such  is  the  recorded  testi- 
timony  of  his  earliest  sermons,  and  thus  he  continued  until 
the  end, — sparing  not  himself  in  the  pulpit  even  when 
debilitated  by  disease,  and  when  fully  conscious  that  the 


326  STEPHEN    OLIN. 

effort  would  be  succeeded  by  weeks  and  perhaps  months 
of  prostration  and  suffering.  The  love  of  Christ  con- 
strained him,  and  although  before  entering  the  pulpit  he 
agreed  fully  with  the  advice  of  friends,  and  resolved  to  be 
prudent  and  moderate,  yet,  when  there,  he  appeared  to  be 
borne  onward  with  the  resistless  tide  of  his  own  feelings, 
swelled  as  it  always  was  by  the  visible  and  sometimes 
audible  emotions  of  his  hearers,  and  prudence  was  for- 
gotten and  self  lost  sight  of. 

And  thus  we  have  indicated  one  element  of  the  power 
by  which  he  swayed  so  majestically  the  multitudes  who 
listened  spell-bound  to  his  eloquence.  In  addition  to  this 
apparently  utter  forgetfulness  of  self,  there  was  also  an 
absolute  dependence  upon  the  promised  aid  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  and  faith  in  lively  exercise.  It  was  a  solemn  thing 
to  be  in  the  pulpit  with  him  when,  before  commencing 
the  service,  he  knelt  and  wrestled,  with  head  upturned  and 
outstretched  arms,  as  if  seeing  the  Invisible,  and  then  rose 
with  a  sunny  smile  upon  his  countenance  which  evinced 
that  he  had  prevailed  with  God. 

His  style,  manner,  and  action  were  everywhere,  and 
especially  in  the  pulpit,  peculiarly  his  own,  unique  in  fact, 
formed  after  no  model,  and  certainly  at  variance  with  the 
prescribed  rules  of  oratory  and  homiletics.  Measured  by 
those  rules  and  tested  by  such  standards  there  was  much 
to  find  fault  with,  and  many  things  that  might  have  been 
different;  but  who  would  have  had  them  altered?  Ere 
the  head  could  have  thus  decided,  the  heart,  taken  cap- 
tive, decreed  that  it  was  all  as  it  should  be.  His  gestures 
were  not  graceful,  yet  were  they  never  inappropriate,  and 
at  times  a  grammatical  error  would  escape  him,  a  solecism, 
or  a  word  pronounced  not  according  to  the  arbitrary 


STEPHEN    OLIN.  327 

standard  of  the  most  recent  lexicographer.  But  who  ever 
thought  of  the  application  of  mere  rhetorical  rules  while 
listening  to  his  impassioned  tones,  and  receiving  into  his 
soul  those  masses  of  hallowed  truth  which  he  hewed  out 
with  a  giant's  power,  and  threw  among  his  hearers  with 
an  apparently  inexhaustible  prodigality  ? 

He  carried  no  notes  with  him  into  the  pulpit,  where  it 
was  his  wont,  after  announcing  his  text,  to  close  the  Bible, 
and,  without  announcing  formally  the  divisions  of  his  sub- 
ject, to  explain  it  with  simplicity,  and  thence  onward  to 
the  close  with  increasing  energy  and  accelerating  power 
to  enforce  it  by  argument  and  apt  illustration.  But  his  dis- 
courses were  all  perfectly  systematic,  thoroughly  digested, 
well-studied.  Few  men  were  more  careful  in  their  prepa- 
rations. The  oil  which  he  brought  into  the  sanctuary  was 
beaten  oil.  He  prepared  himself  as  if  he  expected  no  aid 
from  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  threw  himself  upon  the  promises 
as  if  no  preparation  had  been  made.  ^  On  this  point  he 
practically  exemplified  his  own  precepts,  urging,  as  he  did, 
upon  every  young  minister  with  whom  he  had  influence, 
the  indispensable  necessity  of  diligent  study  and  the  most 
careful  preparation.  He  saw  and  felt  the  importance  of 
theological  schools,  and,  at  a  time  when  it  was  not  popular 
to  do  so,  he  advocated  their  establishment  and  their  claims 
to  the  patronage  of  the  ministry  and  laity  of  his  own 
denomination.  Writing  to  a  brother  clergyman  who  had 
asked  his  opinion  upon  the  subject,  he  gave  it  frankly. 
"It  is,"  said  he,  "that  such  institutions  are  not  only  desira- 
ble but  indispensable.  "We  got  along  passably  well,"  he 
continues,  "  when  other  denominations  were  wasting  their 
strength  in  attempting  to  explain  and  inculcate  the  blind 
mysteries  of  Calvinism ;  but  now,  when  they  unite  great 


328  STEPHEN    OLIN. 

learning  and  zeal  to  as  much  Arminianism  as  gives  them 
access  to  the  popular  mind,  we  must  educate  our  ministry 
better  or  sink"  Adverting  to  the  popular  objection  that 
the  mission  of  the  Methodists  is  especially  to  the  unlearned 
and  the  indigent,  he  says,  "  "We  may  boast  of  preaching  to 
the  poor,  but  without  the  due  intermixture  of  the  rich 
and  influential  we  cannot  fulfil  our  destiny  as  a  Church. 
Nothing  can  save  us  but  an  able  ministry,  and  this  cannot 
be  had  but  by  thorough  education."  This  was  his  unwa- 
vering conviction  upon  a  subject  with  which  at  times  he 
was,  in  his  own  language,  "full  to  overflowing  and  to 
agony." 

His  sermons  usually  occupied  two  hours,  and  frequently 
more,  in  their  delivery,  yet  could  it  not  be  said  that  he 
violated  the  injunction  of  the  Discipline,  "Do  not  preach 
too  long,"  for  he  held  the  attention  of  his  hearers  to  the 
end,  and  the  time  passed  so  imperceptibly  that  only  by 
turning  their  eyes  to  the  clock  did  they  become  aware  of 
its  flight.  A  sermon  delivered  by  him  on  the  last  night 
of  the  year  1845,  in  the  church  in  Madison-street,  New- 
York,  the  pulpit  of  which  he  had  occupied  on  the  three 
preceding  Sunday  mornings,  was  one  of  his  greatest  efforts, 
and  in  its  effects  most  overwhelming.  It  was  a  watch- 
night,  the  first  and  the  only  time  he  preached  on  a  similar 
occasion.  It  had  been  intended  that  the  pastor  of  the 
church  should  follow  the  discourse  with  an  exhortation, 
and  the  last  hour  of  the  year  was  to  be  spent  in  prayer. 
The  service  commenced  at  eight  o'clock,  and  the  prelimi- 
nary exercises  occupied  twenty-five  or  thirty  minutes, 
when  he  arose  and  announced  his  text.  It  was  Ephesians 
iv,  30,  and  a  meagre  outline  of  the  sermon  is  found  in  his 
published  works.  For  the  first  hour  he  dwelt  mainly,  in  a 


STEPHEN    OLIN.  329 

didactic  style,  upon  the  peculiar  offices  and  work  of  the 
Holy  Spirit,  and  upon  the  duty  of  Christians  with  refer- 
ence to  His  operations  upon  the  heart.  Thus  far  his  course 
had  been  like  that  of  a  majestic  river,  widening  and  deep- 
ening in  its  onward  course.  During  the  second  hour  the 
solemn  stillness  of  the  vast  assembly  attested  the  presence 
of  that  celestial  Agent  who  was  the  theme  of  the  discourse, 
and  the  speaker,  evidently  baptized  afresh,  poured  forth 
an  irresistible  tide  of  expostulation  and  entreaty  which 
appeared  to  subdue  every  spirit  and  to  take  captive  every 
will.  The  stillness  and  the  solemnity  increased ;  and 
during  the  momentary  pauses  of  the  preacher  you  might 
hear  the  beatings  of  your  own  heart  amid  the  half-stifled 
sobs  of  those  around  you,  and  read  in  their  tearful  eyes  a 
resolution  like  your  own,  then  and  there  to  commence  a 
new  life.  And  now  he  had  brought  us  within  the  last 
hour  of  the  departing  year,  and  as  he  depicted  the  dread- 
ful state  of  him  who  had  grieved  the  Holy  Spirit  for  the 
last  time,  when  hope  had  fled  and  mercy  shrieked  fare- 
well, an  unutterable  horror  fell  upon  the  hearts  of  his 
hearers,  whence  arose  a  responsive  echo  to  the  prayer  with 
which  he  closed — •"  Take  not  thy  Holy  Spirit  from  me." 

When  he  sat  down  there  remained  but  time  for  a  few 
minutes  of  silent  devotion,  in  which  the  congregation 
joined,  and  then  the  'New  Tear  was  ushered  in.  It  did 
seein  on  that  occasion  as  if  there  was  no  hyperbole  in  the 
sentiment  of  one  who  tells  us  that  he  felt  as  if  "  Olin  could 
convert  anybody ;  and  that  once  fastened  within  the  sound 
of  his  voice,  conviction  and  conversion  were  inevitable." 
Those  who  heard  that  sermon  could  well  understand  how 
it  was  that  no  less  than  thirteen  persons  found  peace  in  be- 
lieving while  listening  to  his  voice  at  a  camp-meeting,  and 


330  STEPHEN    OLIN. 

that  in  the  earlier  stages  of  his  ministry  scores  frequently 
rushed  to  the  altar  for  prayers,  after  one  of  his  discourses, 
without  waiting  for  an  invitation. 

His  sermons  were  totally  devoid  of  anything  like  the 
trickery  of  oratory.  There  was  no  affectation,  no  clap- 
trap. He  never  told  stories  in  the  pulpit.  He  reasoned 
with  his  hearers,  and  his  reasoning  was  clear  and  conclu- 
sive, cumbered  at  times  with  a  superfluity  of  verbiage,  and 
overloaded  with  the  gorgeous  drapery  of  his  rhetoric.  But 
he  introduced  no  ornaments  for  their  own  sake,  and  in  the 
minds  of  his  hearers  there  never  arose  a  suspicion  that  the 
speaker  was  seeking,  for  himself  or  for  his  most  elaborate 
discourses,  so  paltry  a  thing  as  their  admiration.  He 
sought  to  win  their  hearts  for  his  Master,  keeping  himself 
in  the  background  and  ever  making  prominent  Christ  and 
his  cross.  The  exuberance  of  his  style  and  the  affluence  of 
his  diction  indicated  the  exhaustless  riches  of  grace  in  the 
treasury  of  his  soul,  and  the  overwhelming  tide  of  his  elo- 
quence seemed  to  flow  necessarily  from  the  depth  of  the 
well-spring  of  living  waters  within  him. 

His  illustrations  were  drawn  mainly  from  the  Bible,  and 
circumstances  and  events  in  the  historical  parts  of  the  Old 
Testament  were  frequently  brought  forward  with  great 
beauty,  and  always  with  wonderful  pertinency.  His  de- 
scriptive powers  were  of  the  highest  order,  and  his  pictures, 
if  we  may  so  call  them,  were  drawn  so  vividly,  were  so 
striking  and  so  truthful,  that  they  left  an  almost  indelible 
impression  upon  the  mind.  The  conclusion  of  his  watch- 
night  sermon,  to  which  we  have  adverted,  may  be  taken  as 
an  illustration ;  and  another,  equally  striking,  although  not 
so  dreadful,  for  that  was  terrible  almost  beyond  endurance, 
was  given  before  the  Genesee  Conference,  during  its  ses- 


STEPHEN    OLIN.  331 

sion  at  Vienna,  1ST.  Y.,  in  September,  1844.  His  congrega- 
tion, amounting,  as  was  estimated,  to  above  five  thousand, 
were  ranged  before  him  in  a  beautiful  grove.  The  time, 
the  afternoon  of  a  lovely  Sabbath,  as  the  shades  of  evening 
were  drawing  on;  his  hearers,  among  whom  were  two 
hundred  Methodist  preachers;  the  serenity  of  the  scene, 
its  sacred  stillness,  and  the  certainty  that  he  should  never 
again  address  that  assembly,  all  conspired  to  stir  the  great 
fountain  of  his  soul  to  its  utmost  depths ;  and  for  two  hours 
and  a  half  that  immense  throng  hung  upon  the  speaker's 
lips  in  rapt  silence,  broken  occasionally  by  a  responsive 
amen  or  an  involuntary  hallelujah.  Toward  the  close  of 
his  discourse  he  described  a  party  of  pleasure.  They  were 
in  a  boat  upon  the  bosom  of  a  beautiful  and  placid  river. 
There  was  music  and  dancing.  The  merry  song  went 
round,  and  the  wine-cup.  Gaily  and  gallantly  they  were 
borne  onward;  and  now,  O  God!  they  are  within  the 
rapids ;  but  they  heed  not,  hear  not  the  cry  of  warning  from 
the  banks  of  the  river,  and  are  fast  approaching  a  point 
where  it  will  be  beyond  the  power  of  earth  and  Heaven 
combined  to  save  them.  A  little  further — a  little  further, 
and  the  precipice  will  be  reached,  and  the  hoarse  cataract 
will  chant  their  melancholy,  ceaseless,  unavailing  requiem. 
Turning  then  to  the  preachers  who  sat  around  him,  with 
outstretched  arms  and  tearful  eyes,  and  in  a  voice  almost 
suffocated  with  emotion,  he  cried,  "  It  is  for  you,  brethren, 
to  rouse  these  infatuated  voyagers  from  their  maddening 
dream  ;  to  spare  no  effort,  to  shun  no  cross,  if  perchance,  by 
God's  blessing,  you  may  stop  them,  and  rescue  them,  and 
save  them,  ere  they  reach  the  verge  of  that  tremendous  preci- 
pice from  the  base  of  which,  if  they  take  the  fearful  plunge, 
the  smoke  of  their  torment  will  ascend  forever  and  ever." 


332  STEPHEN    OLIX. 

"We  profess  not  to  give  the  precise  language  of  the 
speaker,  for,  as  the  editor  of  a  religious  paper  who  was 
present  remarked,  one  might  as  well  attempt  to  report  the 
thunders  of  Niagara  or  the  blast  of  a  hurricane ;  but  we 
have  given  the  sentiment,  and  must  leave  to  the  reader's 
imagination  the  effect  produced.  In  a  letter  to  a  young 
friend  he  thus  speaks  of  the  sermon  referred  to :  "  Last 
Sunday  I  preached  to  the  Genesee  Conference — a  body  of 
nearly  two  hundred  ministers.  It  was  a  season  of  the  pres- 
ence of  God,  and  will  long  be  remembered  by  many  who 
were  present.  I  was  enabled  to  say  plain  things,  and  the 
hearts  of  the  people  were  open.  I  love  such  seasons. 
They  are  eras  in  my  past  life  on  which  I  look  back  and 
thank  God.  In  nothing  do  I  so  exult  as  in  this  work  of 
the  ministry — this  holding  up  Christ  as  the  one  object  of 
faith,  and  love,  and  admiration.  I  have  often  thought  that 
I  would  willingly  spend  six  days  of  every  week  in  a  cell, 
on  a  sick  bed,  if  on  the  seventh  I  might  be  allowed  to 
preach  Christ  crucified.  It  is  not  merely  a  duty,  and,  so, 
grateful  to  the  conscience  in  the  discharge  of  it;  it  is 
always  a  joyful  season,  a  feast  to  my  own  feelings.  And 
yet  I  am  not  likely  to  do  much  of  this  work." 

A  melancholy  sentence  that  last,  coming  though  it  did 
from  a  heart  subdued,  and  chastened,  and  submissive. 
"  Not  likely  to  do  much  of  a  work"  in  which  his  soul  found 
its  chiefest  joy,  which  he  did  so  faithfully  and  so  well,  and 
for  the  privilege  of  doing  which  he  would  gladly  have  en- 
dured privation  and  suffering!  Truly  this  was  a  fathom- 
less mystery,  one  of  the  strangest  things  in  the  providential 
dealings  of  the  infinitely  wise  God,  that  he  who  by  his  gifts 
and  graces  might  have  done  so  much  was  permitted  to  do 
so  little,  to  preach  so  seldom.  It  frequently  tempted  the 


STEPHEN    OLIN.  333 

soul  that  longed  for  the  prosperity  of  Zion  to  say  unto  the 
great  Head  of  the  Church,  What  doest  thou  ?  Truly  His 
thoughts  are  not  as  our  thoughts  ;  and  the  example  of  the 
sick  man,  silent  upon  his  couch  of  suffering,  joyously  listen- 
ing to  what  others  were  permitted  to  do  for  the  promotion 
of  God's  glory,  or  for  it  offering  praises  to  his  name,  while 
it  subdued  the  spirit,  prompting  the  utterance  of  the  Sav- 
iour's language,  "  Even  so,  Father,  for  so  it  seemed  good  in 
thy  sight,"  did  but  postpone  the  solution  of  the  mystery 
until  the  hour  when  we  shall  no  longer  see  through  a  glass 
darkly. 

A  few  months  of  actual  service  as  a  pastor  in  the  city  of 
Charleston  were  all  that  the  Church  was  permitted  to  enjoy 
in  this  relation.  Then  followed  a  season  of  suffering,  jour- 
neyings  in  quest  of  health,  a  little  respite,  the  duties  of  a 
professor's  chair,  entered  upon  with  bright  anticipations  and 
prosecuted  with  diligence,  and  then  the  sick-bed  again; 
"an  old  man ;  a  broken  reed  at  twenty-seven P  And  thus 
it  was  all  through  the  years  of  his  pilgrimage.  As  pro- 
fessor of  rhetoric  in  Franklin  College  at  Athens  in  Georgia, 
as  President  of  Randolph  Macon  in  Yirginia,  and  of  the 
Wesleyan  University  at  Middletown  in  Connecticut,  he 
had  occasional  seasons  of  renovated  health,  when  he  was 
permitted,  with  gladness  of  heart,  and  O  with  what  entire 
devotedness !  to  apply  all  the  energies  of  his  mighty  soul  to 
the  work  before  him. 

As  an  instructor  of  youth  and  as  presiding  officer  of  a 
literary  institution  he  had  few  equals,  and,  in  all  soberness 
it  may  be  said,  no  superior.  A  strict  disciplinarian,  and 
yet  full  of  benignity  and  kindness,  the  students  loved  him. 
His  one  great  object,  the  best  interests  of  those  committed 
to  his  care,  was  so  evident,  and,  in  fact,  in  all  he  said  and 


334:  STEPHEN    OLIN. 

did,  so  perfectly  transparent,  that  even  an  attempt  to  impose 
upon  or  deceive  him  seemed  on  their  part  like  the  grossest 
moral  obliquity,  and  very  few  were  so  callous  as  to  attempt 
it.  "  The  secret  of  his  government,"  says  one  of  his  stu- 
dents who  has  attained  a  high  position  in  the  world  of  let- 
ters, "  consisted  in  awakening  and  keeping  in  active  exer- 
cise a  sense  of  moral  obligation.  He  never  appealed  to  a 
base  or  ambitious  motive ;  and,  though  it  might  have  been 
proper  enough  to  have  done  so,  he  never  appealed  to  the 
decision  of  public  sentiment — to  popular  opinion — not  even 
to  the  opinions  of  parents  and  friends.  '  Thou  God  seest 
me'  was  the  burden  of  his  appeals.  In  aid  of  his  govern- 
ment he  entered  into  the  religious  exercises  connected  with 
the  daily  operations  of  college  with  such  a  spirituality 
and  pathos  and  heavenly-mindedness  that  they  shed  a 
restraining  and  hallowing  influence  upon  the  whole  col- 
lege body." 

Deservedly  popular  as  an  instructor,  and  highly  appre- 
ciated as  were  his  collegiate  labours,  they  were  very  far 
from  reaching  his  own  standard  of  duty.  He,  indeed,  was 
continually  pressing  toward  that  mark.  A  month  or  two, 
not  indeed  of  health  but  of  comparative  convalescence, 
would  be  succeeded  by  weeks  of  prostration,  which  threw 
him  back,  disarranged  his  plans,  and  infused  into  his  cup 
bitterness  known  only  to  himself  and  his  God.  One  of  the 
last  and,  perhaps,  most  trying  of  his  disappointments  was 
shared  by  the  members  of  the  University,  and  is  a  source 
of  unavailing  regret  to  the  entire  literary  world.  He  com- 
menced a  course  of  lectures  upon  the  theory  and  practice 
of  scholastic  life ;  and  how  did  he  rejoice  and  give  thanks 
that  now,  indeed,  he  had  a  prospect  of  doing  something 
worthy  of  himself  and  of  the  position  which  he  occupied. 


STEPHEN    OLIN.  335 

His  whole  heart  was  in  the  work.  Beautiful  and  full  of 
wisdom  were  these  elaborate  productions  of  his  pen ;  but, 
as  in  so  many  previous  undertakings,  his  projected  course 
was  brought  suddenly  to  a  close.  He  was  not  even  per- 
mitted to  read  the  lectures  he  had  prepared,  and  the  last, 
half-finished,  remains  a  memorial — a  broken  memento  of 
his  zeal  in  the  cause  of  religious  education  and  of  his 
blighted  hopes. 

It  was  owing  to  the  peculiarity  of  his  disease  that  he  did 
not  receive  from  those  who  were  but  slightly  acquainted 
with  him,  and  even  from  some  of  his  more  intimate 
friends,  that  sympathy  to  which  he  was  entitled.  His 
general  appearance  was  robust  and  rugged;  he  had  for 
the  most  part  a  good  appetite,  and  during  the  intervals  of 
his  most  acute  suffering  he  was  industriously  occupied  and 
cheerful,  even  amid  the  utter  derangement  of  his  entire 
nervous  system.  Industry  and  cheerfulness,  these  were 
prevailing  traits  of  his  character.  Nothing  but  absolute 
inability  to  do  anything  reconciled  him  to  even  a  day's 
idleness.  He  loved  to  work,  and  the  wonder  is,  not  that 
he  did  so  little,  but  that  he  performed  so  much.  "When 
others  would  have  thought  themselves  perfectly  justifiable 
in  seeking  their  own  ease,  and  in  the  enjoyment  of  the 
luxury  of  returning  convalescence,  he  was  busied  with  his 
pen  striving  to  rouse  the  slumbering  energies  of  the  Church 
to  vigorous  efforts  for  the  education  of  the  young ;  setting 
forth  her  delinquencies  upon  the  great  cause  which  was 
still  nearer  to  his  heart — the  cause  of  missions;  arrang- 
ing and  rewriting  the  brief  notes  of  his  travels  in  foreign 
lands,  from  which  he  prepared  those  noble  volumes 
which  are  deservedly  placed  in  the  first  rank  of  similar 
productions;  watching  with  paternal  anxiety  over  the 


336  STEPHEN    OLIN. 

interests,  temporal  and  spiritual,  of  the  students,  and  pre- 
paring those  masterly  discourses  with  which  he  met  them 
on  the  last  Sabbath  of  their  intercourse,  and  of  which,  it 
is  not  too  much  to  say,  the  graduating  class  of  no  semi- 
nary received,  at  their  departure,  a  more  faithful  or  a 
more  precious  legacy. 

Manfully  did  he  struggle  with  his  disease,  making  it  a 
matter  of  conscience  to  avail  himself  of  every  means  within 
his  reach,  that  if  by  any  possibility  he  might  do  effective 
service  in  the  cause  of  God.  For  this  he  journeyed  by 
sea  and  land,  in  his  own  and  in  foreign  countries, — put 
himself  under  the  care  of  physicians  of  different  schools, — 
attended  with  punctilious  accuracy  to  the  regulations  pre- 
scribed for  his  daily  life, — followed  the  plough  for  hours 
at  a  time, — toiled  in  his  garden  like  a  day-labourer,  and 
might  have  been  seen,  especially  during  his  latter  years, 
long  ere  the  chapel-bell  had  called  the  students  from 
their  beds, 

"  Brushing  with  hasty  steps  the  dews  away, 
To  meet  the  sun  upon  the  upland  lawn." 

To  the  common  observer  these  things  did  not  indicate  a 
suffering  invalid;  nor  did  his  sermons,  so  long,  so  ener- 
getic, so  full  of  pathos  and  of  power,  for  the  delivery  of 
which  he  had  roused  himself  from  a  couch  of  pain  and 
returned  to  it  at  the  close  of  the  service.  And  then  how 
companionable  he  was,  his  spirits  how  buoyant;  even 
when  stretched  at  full  length  upon  the  sofa,  unable  to 
stand  or  sit,  his  conversation  seemed  to  fill  the  whole  room 
with  sunshine,  and  the  hearts  of  all  present  with  a  portion 
of  his  own  cheerfulness. 

No  man  more  deserved  the  sympathy  of  his  friends,  and 


STEPHEN    OLIN.  337 

none  were  more  grateful  for  it.  He  seemed  to  lean  upon 
those  who  loved  him  with  all  the  confiding  simple-hearted- 
ness of  a  little  child,  and  nothing  gave  him  more  pain 
than  anything  like  alienation  of  affection  on  the  part  of 
those  he  loved.  At  the  General  Conference  of  1844, 
where  he  gave  an  honest  vote  upon  the  case  of  the  slave- 
holding  bishop,  he  offended  grievously  many  of  his  South- 
ern friends.  He  was  placed  in  a  position  of  great  delicacy, 
where,  as  he  foresaw,  the  discharge  of  his  duty  would 
involve  sacrifices ;  but  grace  enabled  him  to  make  them. 
"  It  is  perhaps  well,"  said  he,  "  for  the  trial  of  faith  and 
integrity,  to  be  fixed  in  such  a  position ;"  and  he  looked 
back  upon  what  he  had  done  with  a  satisfied  conscience, 
although  he  grieved  that  for  this  his  earliest  ministerial 
associates  and  friends  should  have  rudely  snapped  the  ties 
which  had  hitherto  bound  them  together.  Especially  did 
he  feel  most  keenly  the  unmerited  reproaches  heaped  upon 
him  in  the  Southern  periodicals.  "  With  one  exception," 
says  he,  "no  man  has  been  so  often  alluded  to  in  terms  of 
reproach  as  I  have  in  their  papers."  And  this  was  done 
by  those  whose  professions  of  esteem  and  love  were  ardent 
and  unvarying  up  to  that  memorable  hour.  The  utterance 
of  sentiments  founded  upon  the  clearest  convictions  of 
right, — a  vote  given  conscientiously,  that  was  all ;  but  that 
was  the  unpardonable  offence  to  many  with  whom  he  had 
in  former  days  taken  sweet  counsel,  and  walked  unto  the 
house  of  God  in  company.  "It  was  not  an  enemy  that 
reproached  me,  then  I  could  have  borne  it." 

His  own  connexion  with  slavery  while  he  resided  in  the 
Southern  States  was,  in  his  latter  years,  a  frequent  topic 
of  conversation  between  himself  and  his  more  intimate 
friends.  It  was  a  subject  upon  which  he  often  meditated 

22 


338  STEPHEN     OLIN. 

when  far  from  the  scenes  of  what  he  called  its  "  great  and 
appalling  evils."  This  connexion  was,  to  the  last  of  his 
life,  a  source  of  no  little  uneasiness ;  and  in  reviewing  it, 
and  taking  into  the  account  the  circumstances  in  which  he 
was  placed,  being  ignorant  when  he  married  that  his  wife 
was  the  owner  of  slaves,  and  living  in  the  midst  of  "  the 
institution,"  he  was  "not  able  to  feel  that  he  did  wrong," 
but  at  the  same  time  not  satisfied  that  he  had  done  right ; 
for,  under  the  influence  of  the  prevailing  customs,  he  had 
been  induced  both  to  buy  and  to  sell  his  fellow-men. 
"All  this,"  says  he,  "I  have  prayerfully  reviewed  many, 
many  times,  and  with  emotions  not  to  be  described,  yet 
have  I  not  been  able  to  feel  that  I  sinned  in  being  the 
owner  of  slaves.  Yet  I  the  more  humbly  and  patiently 
endure  reproach  from  a  feeling  that  I  may  have  mis- 
judged in  this  business."  That  was  the  corroding  thought : 
"I  may  have  misjudged  in  this  business." 

Charitable  as  he  was  with  regard  to  the  conduct  of 
others,  and  ever  anxious  to  find  excuses  and  palliations 
for  those  who  had  been  "  overtaken  in  a  fault,"  he  was 
ever  a  severe  censor  upon  himself.  With  an  acute  con- 
scientiousness, the  thought  that  in  any  instance  he  had 
erred,  even  in  judgment,  troubled  him  ;  and,  while  those 
who  knew  him  best  were  rejoicing  in  that  clear  light 
which  his  whole  course  of  conduct  was  throwing  upon  the 
narrow  pathway  to  the  skies,  he  was  lamenting  in  secret 
places  his  deviations  from  that  pathway,  and  clinging  to 
the  cross  of  Christ  as  his  only  hope.  He  studied  the  char- 
acter and  pondered  upon  the  perfections  of  the  Holy  One, 
contrasting  therewith  his  own  unworthiness,  until  the  per- 
vading sentiment  of  his  soul  found  a  fitting  utterance  in 
the  language  of  his  great  prototype  in  suffering:  "I  have 


STEPHEN    OLIN.  339 

heard  of  thee  by  the  hearing  of  the  ear,  but  now  mine  eye 
seeth  thee :  wherefore  I  abhor  myself,  and  repent  in  dust 
and  ashes." 

The  anxiety  of  friends,  and  the  commonplace  question- 
ings of  visitors,  obliged  him  to  talk  much  about  the  state 
of  his  health,  his  protracted  afflictions,  and  ever-baffled 
expectations.  He  never  magnified  them,  but  would  dwell 
rather,  O  how  joyously!  upon  the  blessings  mingled  in  his 
cup, — his  conjugal  happiness,  his  parental  hopes,  and  the 
solace  afforded  him  by  the  circle  of  dear  friends  in  whose 
welfare  he  found  one  of  his  chief  joys.  The  remembrance 
of  his  outgushing  sympathy  is  to  those  he  loved  a  most 
precious  legacy,  chastened,  saddened  it  may  be,  by  the 
thought,  now  that  he  has  passed  away,  that  it  was  not 
always  reciprocated  with  the  earnest  devotedness  it  de- 
served. 

His  self-depreciation  in  estimating  his  own  labours  in 
the  pulpit,  the  study,  the  recitation-room,  might  have  been 
mistaken  for  affectation  but  for  his  manifest  candour  and 
singleness  of  heart.  No  man  had  less  of  what  the  apostle 
calls  a  "voluntary  humility."  He  loved,  when  utterly 
unable  himself  to  preach,  and  when  his  nervous  prostra- 
tion would  permit,  to  attend  upon  the  ordinances  of  the 
Lord's  house,  and  among  the  gathered  assembly  on  the 
Sabbath  he  took  his  seat  with  a  child-like  reverence,  his 
whole  demeanour  indicating  that  he  came  not  there  to 
criticise,  but  to  worship  and  to  look  up,  trustfully,  to  his 
Father  in  heaven  for  the  bread  of  life.  He  was  wont  to 
say,  when  speaking  of  one  whose  privilege  it  was  to  preach 
frequently  in  his  presence,  that  not  only  was  he  always 
profited  by  his  discourses,  but  that  his  style  of  preaching 
was  far  superior  to  his  own  in  his  best  days.  But  it 


340  STEPHEN     OLIN. 

mattered  little  who  occupied  the  pulpit  if  the  sermon 
evinced  careful  preparation,  and  an  honest  desire  to  glorify 
God  and  to  do  good.  He  received  it  with  thankfulness, 
and  in  all  the  congregation  there  was  not  one  who  listened 
with  more  fixed  attention,  or  drank  in  more  gratefully  the 
joyful  sound. 

Specially  endearing  was  the  relationship  between  him- 
self when  laid  aside  from  the  public  duties  of  his  profes- 
sion, and  the  pastor  of  the  flock  of  which  he  rejoiced  to 
reckon  himself  a  member.  Not  among  the  youngest  dis- 
ciples— the  lambs  of  that  flock — was  there  a  more  gentle 
spirit,  nor  one  with  whom  it  was  so  refreshing  to  converse 
and  to  bow  at  the  mercy-seat.  With  a  power  of  intellect 
such  as  Heaven  permits  to  but  a  favoured  few,  a  world- 
wide reputation  as  an  accomplished  scholar,  and  the  fame 
of  a  pulpit  orator  second  to  none  in  either  hemisphere, — 
with  these  all  laid  upon  the  altar,  and  a  spirit  chastened 
and  subdued,  would  he  give  utterance,  in  the  simplest 
phrase,  to  his  religious  state — his  hopes,  his  prospects,  and 
his  fears. 

In  the  earlier  part  of  his  Christian  life  he  panted  after 
high  religious  enjoyments — the  raptures  of  love ;  but,  lat- 
terly, his  experience  having  been  modified  by  his  lingering 
afflictions,  he  seemed  rather  to  long  for  quiet  repose  in 
Christ — for  unmurmuring,  absolute  submissiveness.  He 
would  talk  of  life,  not  as  a  period  by  itself,  but  as  a  part 
of  his  whole  existence,  and  of  the  change  effected  by 
death  as  even  less  than  many  of  the  changes  through 
which  he  had  already  passed.  "  My  heart  is  fixed ;" 
"  Though  he  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in  him ;"  "  Thy  will 
be  done."  "  These  texts,"  said  he,  "  suit  me  best,  and  are 
most  expressive  of  my  feelings."  "  I  may  die,"  said  he, — 


STEPHEN    OLIN.  341 

and  the  sentences  were  written  from  his  lips  by  his  beloved 
wife, — "  I  may  die  just  as  I  am,  trusting,  believing,  but  with 
no  rapturous  expressions— though  I  think  I  should  have  a 
glad  feeling  to  find  myself  on  the  borders  of  endless  life, 
with  infirmities,  disappointments,  sorrows,  forever  at  an 
end.  I  feel  that  it  cannot  be  that  I  should  be  cast  out 
from  the  heaven  where  are  gathered  the  people  whom  I 
love,  with  whose  spirits  and  tastes  I  sympathize — from  the 
society  I  relish,  to  that  which  I  loathe ;  to  the  hell  where 
the  worldly,  the  unbelieving,  for  whose  society  I  have  a 
distaste,  with  whom  I  have  nothing  in  common,  find  their 
portion.  It  is  unphilosophical  to  think  so ;  it  cannot  be  in 
God's  economy  to  separate  me  from  what  I  have  so  long 
trusted  in.  He  sends  to  hell  those  who  will  not  submit  to 
his  will ;  but  my  will  is  in  harmony  with  his.  The  law  of 
affinities  will  find  place." 

Simple  language,  but  expressive !  Those  who  knew  him 
only  at  a  distance,  and  were  unacquainted  with  his  inner 
life — who  had  heard  his  thrilling  voice  magnifying  the 
grace  of  the  Lord  Jesus  and  the  power  of  his  cross,  or 
portraying  with  a  seraph's  fire  the  saint's  victory  over 
death  and  the  grave,  might  have  expected  something  more 
explicit,  more  joyous;  and,  as  he  entered  the  dark  valley, 
a  testimony  full  of  rapturous  and  triumphant  anticipation. 
But  to  those  who  had  known  his  daily  walk,  who  had  been 
favoured  with  the  whisperings  of  his  gentle  spirit  in  the 
privacy  of  confidential  friendship,  and  who  were  sum- 
moned to  his  bed-side  when  his  majestic  soul,  majestic  in 
its  lowliness,  was  struggling  to  escape  from  its  shattered 
prison-house,  to  them  such  a  testimony  was  not  necessary, 
and  for  himself  it  was  enough  that  then  and  there  he  could 
repeat  the  declaration,  "  My  will  is  in  harmony  with  His." 


342  STEPHEN    OLIN. 

And  thus  it  was,  even  as  he  had  said,  death  found  him 
trusting,  believing;  with  no  rapturous  expressions  but  with 
a  warm  pressure  of  the  hand,  and  a  blessing  for  the  loved 
ones  around  his  couch,  he  passed  away,  verifying  his  own 
prediction,  and  entering  upon  the  fruition  of  his  modestly 
expressed  but  glorious  hope,  "The  law  of  affinities  will 
find  place !" 


EEESLDENT  OF  THE  CONFERENCE  . 
B80  1888.1836  i-1844. 


uitting. 


IT  has  been  said  that  the  name  of  no  English  preacher  has 
appeared  more  in  print  than  that  of  JABEZ  BUNTING,  and  yet 
none  has  shown  more  dislike  of  such  notoriety.  He  has 
openly  rebuked  the  reporters,  and  repeated  his  old  sermons 
before  them,  as  if  to  defy  them,  and  with  express  admonition 
that  they  should  only  get  what  they  had  recorded  before. 
He  seems  studiously  to  have  kept,  from  the  "  pen-and-ink 
sketchers"  and  "penny-a-liners,"  the  incidents,  and  even 
the  dates,  of  his  life ;  he  is  a  wise  man,  and  stops  not  for 
even  self-defence  against  the  misrepresentations  of  the 
press — frequent  of  late — well  knowing  that  the  practical 
history  of  a  public  man,  if  right  in  itself,  will  in  due  time, 
and  demonstratively,  explain  and  vindicate  his  character. 

It  is  somewhat  difficult,  then,  to  make  out  a  veritable 
narrative  of  Dr.  Bunting's  long  career.  Most  extant  arti- 
cles about  him  have  been  but  general  sketches — character- 
istic portraitures.  We  have  been  able,  however,  to  glean 
some  reliable  facts,  and  give  them  here,  woven  into  as 
comprehensive  and  brief  an  outline  as  possible. 

Richard  Boardman,  the  first  preacher  sent  to  this  coun- 
try by  John  Wesley,  passed,  on  his  way  to  embark,  through 
the  village  of  Moneyash,  Derbyshire,  in  the  summer  of 
1769.  He  preached  there  on  the  prayer  of  Jabez. 


344  JABEZ    BUNTING. 

1  Chron.  iv,  9,  10.  The  word  was  "  a  savour  of  life  unto 
life"  to,  at  least,  one  soul  present — a  young  lady.  She 
never  forgot  the  occasion,  and  will  never  forget  it  in 
heaven.  So  deep  was  the  impression  of  the  subject  on 
her  memory,  that  when,  ten  years  later,  she  became  a 
mother,  she  devoted  her  first-born  son  to  God,  and  "  called 
his  name  Jabez."  He  was  born  at  Manchester  (not  Mo- 
ney ash,  as  usually  stated)  May  13,  1T79.  Great  men,  it  is 
said,  derive  their  characters  from  their  mothers.  Unques- 
tionably the  decided  religious  character  of  his  mother 
influenced  the  whole  destiny  of  Jabez  Bunting.  His  early 
and  great  capacity  for  any  kind  of  success,  and  the  numer- 
ous temptations  to  secular  life  which  beset  him,  would 
have  diverted,  from  the  self-sacrificing  career  he  chose, 
almost  any  ordinary  man;  but  a  direction  was  given  to 
his  mind  in  the  outset  which  has  energetically  borne  him 
along  through  his  protracted  career.  His  mother  carried 
him,  when  yet  a  babe,  to  Oldham-street  Chapel,  Man- 
chester, to  receive  the  blessing  of  the  venerable  founder 
of  Methodism.  Mr.  Wesley  took  him  in  his  arms  and 
pronounced  a  benediction  upon  him.  The  history  of 
Methodism  has  shown  that  it  was  a  bequest  of  his  own 
mantle  to  the  child. 

His  conversion  was  brought  about  by  an  incident  which, 
though  apparently  trivial,  seems  to  have  had  a  providen- 
tial relation  to  his  subsequent  life  as  a  great  administrator 
in  the  Church.  His  mother,  remembering  her  vows,  habit- 
ually took  him  to  the  love-feasts  when  he  was  yet  a  child. 
About  his  fifteenth  year  Alexander  Mather  (a  name  of 
note)  was  their  pastor.  He  was  a  rigid  disciplinarian,  and 
admitted  no  one  to  these  meetings  without  the  "ticket" — 
the  proof  of  membership  in  the  Society.  The  boy  was 


JABEZ    BUNTING.  345 

getting  ready  to  go  one  day,  when  his  mother  informed  him, 
with  much  seriousness,  that  he  could  not  get  admittance, 
remarking,  "  I  do  not  know  what  you  think  of  it,  Jabez, 
but  to  me  it  seems  an  awful  thing,  that,  after  having  been 
carried  there,  you  should  now  be  excluded  by  your  own 
fault."  "  The  Lord  used  these  simple  words  of  maternal 
solicitude,"  says  an  English  writer,  "  to  awaken  a  soul  that 
was  to  be  the  instrument  of  awakening  many.  Not  a  few 
will  remember  the  simplicity  and  pathos  with  which  he 
related  this  fact  at  the  Centenary  meeting  in  City-road 
Chapel ;  adding,  with  a  gush  of  emotion,  '  I  have  to  thank 
God  for  Methodist  discipline  as  well  as  for  Methodist  doc- 
trine.' To  use  again  his  own  words — 'That  moment  the 
blow  was  struck  in  the  right  place.'  Soon  after,  he  was  a 
regular  and  earnest  member  of  a  class  led  by  his  maternal 
uncle.  The  class  paper,  for  one  quarter  in  the  year  after 
he  joined,  is  still  extant,  and  against  the  name  of  Jabez 
Bunting  'absent'  is  not  once  marked.  Thus  discipline 
stood  allied  with  his  most  sacred  recollections." 

Like  most  really  great  men,  he  early  gave  evidence  of 
superiority.  A  physician,  Dr.  Percival,  was  so  struck  with 
the  promise  of  his  mind  that  he  proposed  to  take  him  under 
his  patronage.  The  opportunity  was  an  auspicious  one, 
and,  Mrs.  Bunting  being  now  a  widow,  it  might  have 
seemed  providential;  but  she  remembered  her  vow,  and 
kept  the  boy  for  her  Lord.  In  about  his  twentieth  year 
he  went  forth,  accompanied  by  his  friend  James  Wood,  (a 
distinguished  name  afterwards  among  "Wesleyan  Method- 
ists,) to  preach  his  first  sermon  in  a  farm-house.  His  text 
was,  "Ye  believe  in  God,  believe  also  in  me."  The  dis- 
course gave  to  his  friend  a  presentiment  of  his  future  suc- 
cess. "  I  never  heard  a  better  sermon,"  he  exclaimed. 


346  JABEZ    BUNTING. 

"Jabez  shall  be  more  honourable  than  his  brethren." 
"  Nearly  forty  years  from  that  day,"  says  an  English 
author,  "you  might  see  this  same  countenance  fixed  on 
the  same  friend,  and  glowing  with  like  sentiments.  They 
are  now  in  that  Oldham-street  Chapel,  so  connected  with 
their  early  religious  course.  The  black  locks  of  James 
Wood  have  become  white  as  snow,  and  time  has  also 
touched  his  friend.  The  compact,  expressive  head  is 
very  bald;  the  pale  countenance  has  become  full  and 
strongly  coloured ;  and  instead  of  extreme  slenderness,  we 
have  advanced  corpulency.  But  the  whole  air  speaks 
generosity  and  happiness.  Those  smiles  do  not  play  upon 
the  countenance, — that  confidence  does  not  sit  in  the  eye, — 
those  various  tones  of  easy  and  sometimes  playful  sagacity, 
of  hope,  and  humour,  and  pathos,  do  not  come  from  the 
breast  of  a  man  who  has  a  bitter  or  a  broken  heart. 
Methodism  has  reached  the  age  of  a  hundred  years,  and 
her  chief  men  are  met  to  concert  measures  for  duly  noting 
her  centenary.  To  him  all  look  for  the  clearest  exposition 
and  the  wisest  counsel.  He  is  in  the  act  of  opening  up 
that  plan  which  is  to  evoke  such  «,  wonderful  response 
throughout  home  and  missionary  Methodism.  As  his 
friend  watches  him  with  joy  and  pride,  doubtless  he  thinks 
of  the  day  when  he  saw  him  trembling  before  his  cottage 
audience.  Have  not  goodness  and  mercy  followed  them 
both?  He  sits  there,  one  of  the  most  considerable  mer- 
chants of  his  native  Manchester,  President  of  the  Chamber 
of  Commerce,  the  beloved  centre  of  a  large  and  intelligent 
circle,  one  of  the  most  eloquent  lay  preachers  in  the  coun- 
try, and  about  to  lay  down  for  the  fund,  on  which  his 
friend  is  discoursing,  the  sum  of  five  thousand  dollars. 
And  that  friend — has  not  the  prayer  of  Jabez  been  indeed 


JABEZ    BUNTING.  34:7 

answered  upon  him,  and  the  lot  of  Jabez  repeated?  There 
he  stands,  in  that  same  chapel  where  Wesley  took  him  in 
his  arms  and  blessed  him :  for  more  than  twenty  years  he 
has  been,  taking  him  all  in  all,  the  first  man  in  the  Meth- 
odist ministry.  Universal  respect  waits  upon  'his  virtues 
and  his  talents.'  He  carries  an  amount  of  ecclesiastical 
influence  perhaps  greater  than  resides  in  the  person  of 
any  other  single  man  in  Protestant  Christendom, — an 
influence  that  touches  every  corner  of  the  United  King- 
dom, every  colony  that  England  holds,  and  even  many 
tribes  lying  beyond  the  sphere  of  our  national  command." 

His  elevation  to  this  eminence  among  his  brethren  was 
rapid.  Methodism  demands  practical  talent.  The  great 
man  among  its  people  must  be  a  great  worker,  in  order  to 
be  a  workman  that  needeth  not  to  be  ashamed.  Brilliant 
accomplishments,  without  practical  skill  and  palpable 
results,  are  of  little  estimation  in  a  system  so  energetic 
and  demonstrative.  Bunting  had  genius,  eloquence ;  but  he 
had  also  the  insight,  the  common-sense,  the  wisdom,  at  once 
subtile  and  comprehensive,  and,  above  all,  (as  a  requisite 
with  a  multitudinous  people  and  great  resources,)  a  capa- 
cious, generous  enterprise,  that  could  both  project  and  sus- 
tain large  schemes.  The  elements  of  these  qualifications, 
since  so  eminently  developed,  were  visible  in  the  outset  to 
the  discernment  of  his  brethren.  His  career  was  there*- 
fore  rapid,  and  in  this  respect  quite  anomalous  in  the  "Wes- 
leyan  Conference. 

He  entered  the  Conference  ranks  in  1799,  side  by  side 
with  another  young  man  who  has  since  become  second  to 
him  among  the  notabilities  of  English  Methodism — Kobert 
Newton.  His  first  appointment  was  at  Oldham.  His  sub- 
sequent appointments  are  a  curious  record — a  striking 


348  JABEZ    BUNTING. 

indication  of  the  influence  of  talent  to  secure,  even  with- 
out ambitious  management,  its  appropriate  fields  of  effort. 
Though  one  of  the  oldest  preachers  in  the  connexion,  his 
regular  appointments  have  been  limited  to  but  eight 
places,  and  those  the  most  important  in  England: — Old- 
ham,  Macclesfield,  Liverpool,  Manchester,  Sheffield,  Hali- 
fax, Leeds,  London.  He  spent  eight  years,  with  intermis- 
sions, at  Manchester ;  five  at  Liverpool ;  about  thirty-three, 
in  various  positions,  in  London.  These  appointments,  made 
not  by  his  own  agency,  but  spontaneously  by  his  brethren, 
show,  more  perhaps  than  does  the  case  of  any  other  man 
in  the  history  of  Methodism,  the  predominating  power  of 
real  greatness,  its  power  to  concentrate  about  it  the  requisite 
conditions  of  success — to  reinstate  itself  spontaneously  and 
continuously  in  the  midst  of  those  conditions. 

We  have  already  indicated,  in  general  terms,  the  traits 
that  secured  him  such  an  open  and  successful  career.  In 
this  country  he  is  not  fully  understood ;  we  consider  him 
chiefly  as  the  great  legislative  leader  of  English  Method- 
ism. This  he  is;  but  this  is  not  all.  His  remarkable 
influence  could  never  have  been  obtained  without  emi- 
nent popular  power  in  the  pulpit.  Methodism  has  to  do 
with  the  masses,  and  Jabez  Bunting  has  swayed,  not 
merely  the  ecclesiastical  men  of  his  denomination,  but  its 
popular  mind  beyond  any  other  man  since  Wesley.  He 
is  unquestionably  one  of  the  greatest  preachers  of  the  age ; 
but  great  here,  as  in  other  respects,  not  with  adventitious 
or  merely  brilliant  or  rhetorical  traits,  but  with  the  wisdom 
and  the  power  which  befit  the  office,  and  which  inherently 
belong  to  the  man.  A  writer  in  the  London  Christian 
Times  says : — 

"You  find  everywhere  that  the  impression  of  his  minis- 


JABEZ    BUNTING.  349 

try  was  not  that  of  grandeur,  or  brilliancy,  or  beauty,  but 
chiefly  of  power.  This  impression  of  power  was  much 
intensified  by  the  persuasion  that  the  power  was  legiti- 
mate. The  hearer  knew  he  had  not  been  beguiled  into 
submission  by  display,  had  not  been  surprised  by  a  mere 
rush  of  masterful  passion,  but  that  the  preacher  had  fairly 
approached  his  reason,  challenged  his  resistance,  and,  by 
open  stroke  sent  swift  upon  open  stroke,  broke  through  all 
his  parries,  then  rushed  upon  him  and  bore  him  clean 
away.  'What  do  you  think  of  him?'  asked  an  admirer, 
who  had  taken  to  hear  him  one  little  used  to  Methodist 
chapels.  '  Think  of  him !  There  can  be  but  one  opinion  : 
it  is,  Surrender  at  discretion.'  But  his  power,  if  oratori- 
cally  great,  was  religiously  wonderful.  That  power,  it  is 
true,  led  the  judgment  and  stirred  the  heart,  but  it  chiefly 
touched  the  soul.  His  discourses  were  thoroughly  pre- 
pared. Theology  and  style  bore  alike  the  mark  of  patient 
care.  But  the  theology  had  been  studied,  not  to  make  it 
ingenious,  but  to  make  it  clear ;  the  composition  had  been 
studied,  not  to  make  it  ornate,  but  expressive.  The  argu- 
ment, after  being  elaborated  in  the  understanding,  was  not 
passed  through  a  decorative  fancy,  but  through  an  ardent 
heart.  Every  one  saw  that  the  preacher  was  not  there  to 
preach  the  finest  possible  sermon,  but  to  make  the  greatest 
possible  impression.  Every  one  saw  that,  in  the  pulpit 
before  them,  the  moving  power  was  a  resolve  to  awaken 
sleeping  souls.  This  burnt  as  a  fire — a  fire  hot  enough  to 
fuse  all  his  theology,  his  rhetoric,  his  logic.  These  were 
all  there;  but  the  hardest  argument,  or  the  most  solid 
truth,  by  the  time  it  had  passed  through  the  hidden  fur- 
nace of  that  heart,  was  melted  down,  and  the  stream  that 
poured  from  those  glowing  lips  was  dense  and  burning  as 


350  JABEZ     BUNTING. 

a  stream  of  lava.  One  most  intelligent  friend  assures  us, 
that  while  Dr.  Bunting  laboured  in  Leeds,  more  persons 
were  converted  through  his  preaching  than  had  been 
through  that  of  any  predecessor,  at  least  of  his  popular 
order  of  talent.  And  a  worthy  man  in  that  town,  whose 
judgment  would  not  be  formed  on  just  the  same  grounds, 
has,  in  his  own  way,  given  us  a  like  testimony.  'He 
was  a  soul-saving  preacher.  Bless  you,  all  the  soul-saving 
preachers  we  have  now-a-days  are  only  children  to  him. 
O  what  a  power  was  with  his  word!  to  hear  him  on  a 
Sunday  evening!'  While  stationed  the  second  time  in 
Manchester,  the  members  in  his  circuit  were  doubled  in 
number.  His  sermons  were  often  highly  charged  with 
the  terrors  of  the  Lord.  He  had  no  fear  of  proclaiming 
'  the  wrath  of  God  against  all  ungodliness  and  unrighteous- 
ness of  men.'  To  this  day  many  a  heart  bears  strongly 
marked  the  impression  burnt  into  it  thirty  years  ago  by 
some  of  his  discourses.  It  was  not  our  own  lot  to  hear 
him  in  those  times.  We  have  only  had  that  privilege 
since  years  had  abated  his  powers.  But  by  many  a  fire- 
side, from  preacher  and  layman,  from  the  refined  and  the 
illiterate,  we  have  gathered  for  our  own  admonition  im- 
pressions of  the  preaching  that  marked  his  prime.  Every- 
where we  have  found  that  with  his  word  came  a  tremendous 
power  upon  a  sinner's  soul.  All  bear,  as  vividly  as  if  it 
had  been  yesterday,  the  recollection  of  those  times  when, 
amid  his  lucid  and  animated  discussion,  a  blush  rose  on 
his  pale  countenance  and  deepened  to  crimson ;  his  clear, 
flexible  voice  pitching  higher,  till  it  sometimes,  but  rarely, 
broke  into  a  scream,  his  words  coming  thicker,  his  looks 
darting  right  into  the  breast  of  his  auditory,  and  then  a 
call  to  repentance  broke  forth  and  shook  them  all  with 


JABEZ    BUNTING.  351 

peal,  and  roll,  and  breathless  lull,  and  loud  concluding 
crash.  A  sermon  on  'Kemember  Lot's  wife'  was  often 
mentioned  by  Mr.  "Wood  as  an  unequalled  specimen  of 
this  kind  of  power.  Another  on  '  Beware  of  the  leaven 
of  the  Pharisees  and  Sadducees,'  is  considered  by  a  very 
judicious  critic  the  most  remarkable  he  ever  heard.  An 
appeal  to  those  he  had  himself  baptized,  we  have  heard 
named  by  several  as  the  noblest  burst  of  eloquence  they 
ever  heard.  And  thus  you  find  in  thousands  of  intelligent 
minds  the  most  vivid  impression  of  discourses  or  passages 
which  he  delivered  half  a  lifetime  ago.  All  agree  that 
they  never  heard  a  man  of  great  reputation  who  could  so 
safely  be  pointed  out  to  young  ministers  as  a  model.  His 
powers  were  cultivated  not  to  dazzle,  not  to  fascinate,  but 
to  subdue.  His  Master's  work  was  done ;  and  the  instru- 
ment had  more  abundant  honour  than  if  honour  had  been 
his  aim." 

Thus  truly  great  in  the  pulpit,  he  has  also  been  vigor- 
ously useful  out  of  it — the  master  manager  of  the  plans  of 
Methodism  since  Wesley.  Indeed,  nearly  all  the  grand 
schemes  of  the  denomination  in  England  have  sprung, 
directly  or  indirectly,  from  his  energy.  As  soon  as  Dr. 
Coke  died,  Jabez  Bunting  became  the  chief  director  of  the 
missionary  movement  of  Methodism — the  greatest  move- 
ment in  its  history — and  to  him  more  than  any  other  man 
it  owes  the  precedence  which  it  now  takes  of  all  the 
other  Protestant  missionary  enterprises  of  the  world.  He 
had  offered  to  go  to  India  himself  as  a  missionary,  and  has 
been  heard  to  say,  "Some  of  the  happiest  moments  of  my 
life,  next  to  those  that  immediately  followed  my  conver- 
sion, were  when  I  fully  presented  myself  to  the  Lord  as  a 
missionary  to  India."  He  was  wisely  prevented  from 


352  JABEZ    BUNTING. 

going,  however,  that  he  might  do  a  larger  work  for  mis- 
sions at  home.  He  helped  to  organize  the  Wesleyan  mis- 
sionary interest ;  took  the  platform  for  it  with  triumphant 
success;  was  sent  to  London  that  he  might  supervise  it, 
and  there  made  one  of  the  noblest  sacrifices  for  it  that 
could  be  made  by  such  a  mind.  He  was  endowed  with 
taste  and  capacity  for  literature,  and  had  formed  with  a 
friend  some  favourite  literary  projects;  but  on  foreseeing 
the  results  of  the  missionary  undertakings  of  the  "Con- 
nexion," he  wrote  to  his  friend : — "  The  die  is  cast.  If  I 
give  to  our  missions  the  attention  they  require,  I  shall  not 
have  any  time  hereafter  for  literature."  "This,"  says  the 
London  Christian  Times,  "must  have  been  a  conscious 
sacrifice  of  both  reputation  and  enjoyment;  but  it  was 
deliberately  made,  and,  consequently,  except  his  sermon 
on  Justification  by  Faith,  which  has  gone  through  seven 
editions,  you  will  now  inquire  in  vain  for  his  productions. 
Another  sermon,  preached  in  Dr.  Winter's  Chapel  before 
the  Sunday-School  Union,  is,  we  believe,  out  of  print." 

He  was  the  first  to  introduce  laymen  into  the  manage- 
ment of  the  missionary  affairs  of  the  Church,  and  not  with- 
out some  clerical  opposition.  He  has  always  had  the  good 
judgment  to  see  the  value  of  their  services,  especially  in 
financial  matters,  where  clergymen  are,  naturally  enough, 
found  wanting.  Beginning  with  the  missionary  society, 
he  urged  on  this  improvement  "till,  upon  every  Connex- 
ional  committee,  laymen  were  placed  in  equal  number  with 
ministers.  He  also  proposed  and  carried  the  admission  of 
laymen  into  the  District  meetings,  so  that  through  his 
legislation  no  matter  of  Connexional  finance  is  settled  by 
the  Conference ;  all  this  being  done  by  mixed  committees, 
and  the  Conference  merely  acting  as  a  court  of  record  for 


JABEZ    BUNTING.  353 

their  measures."  So  says  an  English  authority ;  and  an- 
other author  affirms  that,  "It  is  a  fact  but  little  known, 
and,  by  those  who  have  been  accustomed  to  hear  this 
great  man  railed  at  as  a  priestly  dictator,  not  even  sus- 
pected, that  nearly  every  measure  which  has  popularized 
the  institutions  of  Methodism — which  has  given  to  the 
people  a  more  liberal  representation — has  originated  with 
Dr.  Bunting." 

He  has  also  led  the  way  in  the  great  educational  enter- 
prizes  of  Wesleyan  Methodism.  These  are  numerous,  and 
now  potent  in  their  endowment  and  influence.  We  can 
refer  to  but  one  of  them,  the  one  at  the  head  of  which,  as 
president,  he  still  stands,  and  the  post  at  which  he  will 
probably  fall — The  "Wesleyan  Theological  Institute.  This 
is  an  interest  of  the  denomination  that  he  anticipated  with 
solicitude  for  many  years,  and  has  fostered  with  unremit- 
ting care  since  its  birth.  At  the  very  first  Conference 
held  by  Wesley,  some  such  provision  for  the  education  of 
young  preachers  was  proposed.  The  proposition  was 
repeated  at  the  next  session ;  it  was  never  lost  sight  of  by 
the  Wesleyan  Conference  until  it  stood  realized  in  two  of 
their  noblest  denominational  structures — one  at  Richmond, 
in  the  South ;  the  other  at  Didsbury,  in  the  North.  About 
ten  years  ago  the  Richmond  Seminary  was  opened  with  an 
address  by  Dr.  Bunting,  which  we  give,  though  in  the  meager 
outline  of  a  newspaper  report,  from  the  London  Watch- 
man, as  indicating  somewhat  the  history  of  the  design : — 

"Dr.  Bunting  then  addressed  the  assemblage,  in  which 
he  entertained  strong  objections  to  this  place  being  called 
the  Richmond  College ;  it  was  the  Richmond  INSTITUTION  ; 
— to  speak  more  diffusely,  the  Richmond  Branch  of  the 
Wesleyan  Theological  Institution.  He  hoped  his  excellent 

23 


354  JABKZ    BUNTING. 

friends,  to  whom  would  be  permanently  and  regularly 
intrusted  the  management  of  the  institution,  and  the  edu- 
cation of  the  young  brethren,  would  concur  with  him  in 
the  opinion  he  had  just  expressed.  There  were  many 
things  implied  in  what  was  properly  speaking  a  college, 
which  they  did  not  aim  to  realize  in  this  establishment. 
He  congratulated  the  friends  of  the  institution  on  the 
numerous  assemblage  now  congregated.  It  was  nearly  a 
hundred  years  ago — namely,  at  the  Conference  of  1744 — 
that  the  propriety  of  instituting  a  'seminary,'  as  it  was 
then  termed,  was  first  mooted;  and  this  institution  was, 
therefore,  in  principle  anything  but  an  innovation.  The 
question  proposed  to  the  Conference  of  1744  was,  '  Can  we 
have  a  seminary  for  labourers?'  He  hoped  the  young 
brethren  who  were  receiving  instruction  in  the  Theological 
Institution  would  always  bear  this  in  mind,  that  when  the 
establishment  of  such  an  institution  or  seminary  was  first 
suggested,  it  was  proposed  for  the  instruction  and  training 
of  'labourers.'  His  young  brethren  must  remember  that 
they  were  td*be  '  labourers ;'  and  if  he  thought  that  any- 
thing they  might  learn,  or  any  habits  which  they  might 
acquire  in  that  institution  would  unfit  them  for  labour,  or 
disincline  them  to  labour,  he  would  most  deeply  regret  its 
establishment.  But  he  anticipated  a  very  different  result. 
He  anticipated  that,  by  the  blessing  of  God  upon  the  assid- 
uous efforts  of  their  tutors,  they  would,  in  this  institution, 
learn  how  to  labour,  and  be  strengthened  in  their  determi- 
nation to  labour  faithfully  and  zealously,  wherever  their 
lot  might  be  cast.  He  had  stated  that,  at  the  Conference 
of  1744,  the  question  was  proposed,  '  Can  we  have  a  semi- 
nary for  labourers?'  The  answer  was,  'If  God  spares  us 
till  another  Conference.'  The  subject  was  resumed  at  the 


JABEZ    BUNTING.  355 

next  Conference,  and  it  was  asked,  'Can  we  have  a  semi- 
nary for  labourers  yet?  ' Not  yetj  was  the  answer;  'not 
till  God  gives  us  a  proper  tutor?  The  want  of  a  proper 
tutor  was  the  only  reason  assigned  why  an  establishment 
similar  in  principles  and  objects  to  this  institution  was  not 
made  coeval  with  the  earliest  periods  of  Wesleyan  Meth- 
odism. At  the  end  of  a  century,  that  which,  even  at  the 
early  period  he  had  referred  to,  was  felt  to  be  a  desidera- 
tum had  now,  by  the  providence  of  God,  been  supplied. 
An  institution  had  been  established  which,  for  the  sake  of 
convenience,  had  branched  into  two  divisions :  one  of  those 
branches  having  been  opened  last  September,  at  Didsbury, 
near  Manchester,  which  was  called  the  Northern  Branch ; 
and  the  other,  or  Southern  Branch,  being  that  which  they 
were  now  assembled,  in  a  more  formal  and  solemn  manner 
than  had  hitherto  been  done,  to  dedicate  to  the  service  of 
God.  They  seemed,  indeed,  to  have  all  they  required, 
except  two  things.  They  did  want  more  money.  (Hear, 
hear.)  It  might  be  said,  'Why  did  you  erect  such  an 
expensive  building  as  this?  We  cannot  help  doing  justice 
to  the  architectural  merit  of  the  building ;  we  must  allow 
that  it  is  beautiful  and  commodious;  but  have  you  not 
spent  upon  the  erection  of  the  building  money  which 
might  have  been  better  applied  to  the  support  of  the  insti- 
tution?' He  would  reply,  'No;  these  premises  arc  a, 
present  to  the  institution,  from  the  Centenary  Fund,  by  a 
grant  made  for  the  specific  purpose  of  such  am  erection  / 
and  I  am  informed  that  not  one  farthing  of  the  money 
subscribed  by  individual  friends  for  the  support  of  the 
institution — for  the  maintenance  and  instruction  of  the 
students — will  have  to  be  appropriated  to  defray  the  cost 
of  the  building.  (Hear,  hear.)  He  believed  it  would  not 


356  .1ABEX     BUNTING. 

be  necessary  to  trench  upon  any  funds  contributed  for  the 
maintenance  of  the  institution ;  but  that  the  sum  granted 
from  the  Centenary  Fund  would  just  be  sufficient  to  defray 
the  expenses  of  the  purchase,  and  of  the  erection  of  this 
beautiful  and  commodious  structure,  which  was  so  well 
calculated  to  accomplish  the  monumental  and  commemora- 
tive part  of  the  various  noble  objects  contemplated  in  the 
original  plan  of  the  Centenary  Fund.  Since,  then,  they 
had  obtained  such  convenient  accommodation — and  since 
there  was  in  the  building  a  considerable  number  of  stu- 
dents, to  whom  he  hoped  more  would  be  hereafter  added — 
it  now  remained  for  them  to  provide  means  for  the  annual 
support  of  the  institution." 

Dr.  Bunting  feels  satisfied  with  the  results  of  the  meas- 
ure. At  the  session  of  the  British  Conference  in  August, 
1852,  after  the  presentation  of  the  usual  resolutions  in 
respect  to  the  Theological  Institution,  he  arose,  and,  among 
other  things,  declared  "that  he  was  more  than  ever  con- 
vinced that  the  institution  was  of  God — of  God  in  its 
origin,  and  in  its  progress  to  that  state  of  maturity  and 
extensive  usefulness  which  it  had  now  reached." 

Of  this  noble  institution  we  give  several  engraved  illus- 
trations, as  it  is  the  final  official  responsibility  of  the  great 
man  whom  we  have  been  describing. 

Dr.  Bunting,  like  all  first-class  minds,  is  variously  great. 
We  have  considered  him  as  a  preacher  and  as  a  practical 
manager.  As  a  debater  he  is  esteemed  without  a  rival 
among  his  brethren.  He  is  chary  of  his  remarks  in  Con- 
ference sessions,  well  knowing  that  frequent  and  unim- 
portant speeches  there  are  a  sure  forfeiture  of  influence, 
as  well  as  a  vexatious  embarrassment  of  business.  He 
seldom  speaks  over  five  minutes  at  a  time,  and  then  after 


JABEZ    BUNTING.  357 

most  others  are  through,  and  for  the  purpose  of  concen- 
trating the  dispersed  and  bewildered  thoughts  of  the  body, 
of  allaying  exasperated  feelings,  or  clinching  the  subject 
by  some  summary  and  conclusive  argument.  "When, 
however,  occasion  requires  it,  he  can  enter  the  arena  full 
armed,  and  fight  the  combat  out — invariably  with  victory. 
Mr.  Everett,  who  has  lately  become  noted  as  his  assailant, 
once  gave  the  following  sketch  of  him  as  a  debater : — 

"  See  him :  there  he  sits  on  the  platform,  surrounded  by 
the  leading  members  of  the  Conference,  his  elbow  on  the 
table,  and  his  chin  embedded  in  the  palm  of  his  hand.  A 
subject  of  importance  being  on  the  tapis,  and  the  speaker 
being  low,  or  at  a  distance,  the  hand  is  speedily  relieved 
of  the  chin,  and  placed  behind  the  ear,  where  it  remains 
as  a  substitute  for  a  trumpet,  gathering  together  the  words, 
while  the  sense  which  it  is  intended  to  aid  drinks  in  the 
sound.  An  occasional  note  is  made  on  a  slip  of  paper,  or 
the  back  of  a  letter,  in  the  course  of  a  protracted  discus- 
sion; but  memory,  which  rarely  ever  fails  him,  is  mostly 
depended  upon.  Now,  he  is  calm  and  dignified ;  but  in 
an  instant  the  scene  is  changed.  The  speaker  has  the  mis- 
fortune to  oppose  some  favourite  theory,  to  trench  upon 
some  of  the  peculiarities  of  Methodism,  or  belongs  to  the 
other  side  of  the  house :  that  moment,  the  eye  of  our 
pleader  is  darted  like  the  eye  of  a  lynx  along  the  line  of 
sound,  and  either  quails  or  rouses  the  person  who  has 
gained  his  attention.  He  again  appears  tranquil ;  but  it 
is  the  tranquillity  of  a  man  who  is  pondering  upon  what 
has  been  said.  Speaker  succeeds  speaker,  till  at  length 
silence  ensues,  and,  during  the  momentary  pause,  he 
looks  round ;  but  no  one  essaying  to  rise,  he  considers  his 
own  time  to  have  come.  He  loves  the  closing  speech ; 


358  JABEZ    BUNTING. 

and  now  that  he  is  on  his  feet,  let  the  eye  be  thrown 
around  the  audience,  and  all  will  be  seen  on  the  tip-toe — 
all  will  be  still  to  the  ear.  The  first  feeling  in  operation 
in  the  breasts  of  previous  speakers,  refers  as  much  to 
themselves  as  the  subject;  and  the  first  thought  in  the 
mind  of  the  mere  hearer,  is  inadvertently  directed  to  the 
same  quarter,  and  is  followed  up  with  anxiety  or  pleasure 
— looking  forward  to  see  how  it  will  fare  with  such  as 
have  thus  entered  the  arena  of  debate,  as  well  as  toward 
the  fate  of  the  question  in  which  he  himself  may  have  an 
interest,  and  which  absolutely  hangs  upon  the  breath,  and 
is  to  be  decided  by  him  upon  whom  every  eye  is  now 
fixed,  as  by  fascination.  Listen  to  him:  he  takes,  per- 
haps, at  first,  a  dispassionate  view  of  the  general  question, 
then  gives  you  his  own  opinion ;  next  goes  on  to  establish 
certain  positions ;  notices  the  remarks  of  previous  speak- 
er's, so  far  as  they  seem  to  interfere  with  his  own  senti- 
ments ;  and,  lastly,  proceeds  to  the  formal  reply,  in  which 
he  often  takes  upon  himself  the  onus  probandi,  either 
classifying  the  arguments  of  his  opponents,  or  taking  up 
their  objections  separately,  as  may  best  suit  his  purpose ; 
encircling  himself  all  the  while  in  a  tower  of  strength, 
from  whose  impregnable  walls  he  nods  defiance  to  all  his 
assailants.  Very  often,  at  a  moment  when  a  man  is  con- 
gratulating himself  on  the  probability  of  a  happy  escape, 
or  of  finding  his  arguments  valid,  by  a  less  early  notice, 
he  will  come  down  upon  him  in  an  instant,  like  an  unex- 
pected flash  of  lightning,  broad  and  vivid,  shivering  to 
pieces,  by  a  single  stroke,  the  whole  superstructure  he  had 
reared,  and  upon  which  he  had  long  gazed  with  the  fond- 
ness of  a  parent  on  a  favourite  child — compelling  him  at 
the  time  by  its  glare  to  shrink  back  into  himself.  On 


.ENTRANCE  HALL   AND  PRINCIPAL  STAIRCASE. 


JABEZ    BUNTING.  359 

these  occasions  he  can  be  sarcastic,  solemn,  playful,  or 
otherwise.  But  he  never  approaches  a  subject  without 
illuminating  it,  and  rarely  retires  from  the  field  without 
conquest ;  followed  by  the  smiles  of  his  friends,  and  leav- 
ing the  opposing  powers  in  a  state  of  suspense  or  blank 
astonishment.  We  feel  unwilling  to  leave  this  part  of  his 
character,  and  yet  we  are  afraid  to  proceed  with  it,  owing  to 
our  incompetency  to  do  it  j  ustice.  We  have  heard  pleaders 
at  the  bar,  and  statesmen  in  the  senate,  (a  place,  by  the 
way,  which  he  is  very  fond  of  attending ;)  but  we  solemnly 
aver,  that,  for  reply,  we  never  heard  a  near  approach  to 
him.  His  replies  are  like  the  set  speeches  of  some  of  our 
first  speakers ;  so  full,  so  regular,  so  neat,  so  consecutive, 
so  pertinent,  so  easy,  so  ready!  He  has  no  set  time  for 
emphasis,  but  rises  in  feeling  with  the  importance  of 
his  subject,  and  the  people  go  up  with  him,  till  both 
gain  the  summit  of  the  mount,  and  the  latter  feel  it  diffi- 
cult to  descend  again,  or  stoop  to  common  things.  His 
eloquence  is  irresistible.  Had  he  been  brought  up  to  the 
bar,  or  been  trained  for  the  senate,  he  would  never  have 
paused  in  his  upward  career,  till  he  had  either  been  pre- 
mier or  lord  high  chancellor;  and  where  he  is,  he  is  a 
king  among  his  subjects.  His  presence  of  mind  never 
forsakes  him.  No  man  makes  fewer  mistakes,  and  he 
never  leaves  an  advantage  unimproved.  It  is  dangerous 
for  an  adversary  to  slumber  or  be  off  his  guard  in  his 
presence.  He  is  always  awake  himself,  and,  like  the 
famous  Erskine,  is  as  daring  as  he  is  skilful;  taking 
advantage  of  the  least  opening,  and  defending  himself 
with  caution.  His  fine  spirit  and  courage,  when  let 
out,  give  vigour  and  direction  to  the  whole,  bearing 
down  all  resistance.  He  is  not  like  some  speakers,  full 


360  JABEZ    BUNTING. 

of  repetition,  recurring  again  and  again  to  the  same 
topic  or  view  of  the  subject,  till  he  has  made  the  impres- 
sion complete ;  he  rarely  goes  back  to  the  same  ground, 
which,  in  the  language  of  an  eminent  writer,  he  has 
'  utterly  wasted  by  the  tide  of  fire  he  has  rolled  along  it.' 
He  completes  his  work  as  he  goes  on.  He  has  a  preter- 
natural quickness  of  apprehension,  which  enables  him  to 
see  at  a  glance  what  costs  other  minds  the  labour  of  an 
investigation.  It  is  this  that  makes  ordinary  business  easy 
to  him,  and  hence  he  has  been  heard  to  say  that  he 
could  never  make  what  some  men  call  speeches — that  his 
were  all  matters  of  mere  detail  in  business.  He  is  not 
only  quick,  but  sure.  And  though  he  has  fire,  yet  it  is  of 
that  kind  that  he  has  rarely  the  heat  of  passion  to  plead 
or  regret.  As  the  head  of  a  party,  he  has  none  of  its 
prejudices  to  plead,  having  no  person  to  serve;  and  he 
has  few,  if  any,  peculiarities  of  a  personal  character ;  no 
'  mental  idiosyncrasies,'  as  Lord  Brougham  would  say,  to 
indulge,  which  produce  capricious  fancies  and  crotchets. 
His  faculties  are  always  unclouded  and  unstunted,  ever  to 
be  depended  on;  and  his  judgment  secures  him  success 
and  adherents." 

Aged,  broken  in  health,  afflicted  with  the  recent  fear- 
ful convulsions  of  Methodism  in  England,  Jabez  Bunt- 
ing still  holds  on  his  undeviating  course.  His  faculties 
are  yet  vigorous;  he  is  still  the  great  counsellor  of  his 
denomination,  and  though  incapable  of  moving  to  and  fro 
in  its  field  as  he  has  for  more  than  half  a  century,  he  is 
nevertheless  still  its  guiding  mind. 


WE  have  given,  in  the  preceding  pages,  sketches  of  distin- 
guished men  in  various  fields  of  Methodism — Wesley, 
Fletcher,  and  Bunting  in  England — Garrettson,  Emory, 
Levings,  and  Olin  in  the  middle  American  Conferences — 
Roberts  and  M'Kendree  in  the  West — Hedding,  Pick- 
ering, and  Fisk  in  the  East.  In  presenting  these  indi- 
vidual examples,  we  have  been  aware  how  many  noble 
names  are  omitted,  and  have  wished  that  our  space 
would  allow  a  fuller  representation  of  each,  if  it  had 
even  to  be  in  an  aggregate  form.  The  beautiful  and 
remarkably  truthful  plate,  which  we  here  insert,  enables 
us  to  do  so  in  respect  to  New-England,  with  the  hope  that 
in  some  subsequent  volume  we  may  find  it  possible  to 
represent,  in  similar  manner,  other  divisions  of  our  great 
evangelical  field. 

The  engraving  is  a  very  accurate  representation  of  the 
interior  of  the  old  Bromfield-street  Church,  Boston — a 
locale  of  sanctified  reminiscences  to  Eastern  Methodists. 
The  scene  is  now  entirely  transformed ;  it  has  given  place 
to  one  of  the  noblest  chapels  of  American  Methodism ;  but 
no  one  who  worshipped  within  the  old  structure  will  ever 
forget,  amid  the  modernized  and  beautiful  conveniences  of 
the  new  one,  the  precious  associations  of  those  days  when 


362         THE    OLD    NEW-ENGLAND    CONFERENCE. 

Hedding,  Pickering,  Merritt,  Mudge,  Kibby,  Brodhead, 
Fillmore,  Lindsay,  and  others  of  the  old  Legio  Fulminea, 
thundered  from  its  pulpit.  It  has  been  the  most  powerful 
battery  of  Methodism  in  New-England — occupied  by  its 
most  powerful  evangelists,  and  the  gathering  place  of  its 
most  powerful  corps  of  membership. 

The  portraits  in  the  engraving  are  mostly  correct  like- 
nesses— remarkably  accurate  if  we  consider  the  diminished 
scale  upon  which  they  are  presented.  TIMOTHY  MEJRRITT, 
one  of  the  intellectual  champions  of  the  denomination, 
stands  in  the  pulpit.  He  was  a  thoroughly  devoted  man, 
and  though  now  crumbling  in  the  dust  of  the  sepulchre, 
his  influence  is  still  felt  through  New-England,  especially 
among  such  as  are  personally  interested  in  that  great  dis- 
tinction of  our  theology,  the  doctrine  of  Christian  Perfec- 
tion— a  favourite  theme  of  his  pen  and  his  preaching. 
Some  of  his  literary  works  have  taken  permanent  rank  in 
our  Book-Concern  Catalogue.  Take  him  all  in  all,  he  was, 
perhaps,  in  his  day,  the  foremost  man  in  the  New-England 
Methodist  ministry  ; — wise  in  counsel,  powerful  in  the  pul- 
pit, formidable  in  controversy,  holy  in  life. 

Beside  him  sits  GEOEGE  PICKERING,  whose  features  will 
compare  well  with  those  of  the  larger  engraving,  given  else- 
where in  this  volume.  His  attitude,  even  to  the  position 
of  the  hands,  will  be  recalled  by  those  who  have  seen  him 
in  the  old  Bromfield-street  pulpit.  DK.  FISK  is  address- 
ing the  Conference  at  the  foot  of  the  pulpit-stairs.  The 
artist  has  somewhat  idealized  his  head  and  features,  but 
not  more  so  than  the  English  painter  in  the  larger  like- 
ness given  with  our  sketch  of  him.  In  the  present  instance 
the  outline  of  his  person  is  accurately  given,  even  to  the 
old  clerical  style  of  dress,  which  he  did  not  disdain  to  copy 


THE    OLD    NEW-ENGLAND    CONFERENCE.         363 

from  the  fathers  of  our  ministry.  At  his  left  sits  the  vener- 
able HEDDING,  with  somewhat  longer  hair  and  less  corru- 
gated features  than  in  our  larger  engraving,  but  not  the 
less  truthful  for  the  time  at  which  the  portrait  was  taken. 
Many  of  his  friends,  who  recollect  his  appearance  at  that 
earlier  period,  will  prefer  this  more  genial  face  to  the  later 
and  more  time-worn  expression.  He  was  the  favourite 
bishop  of  the  men  with  whom  he  is  surrounded,  having 
been  their  candidate  at  the  time  of  his  election,  and  for 
many  years  resident  among  them.  He  sits  in  their  pres- 
ence as  among  his  brethren,  tranquil  and  beloved.  The 
later  scenes  of  strife,  so  much  lamented,  though  now  passed, 
had  not  yet  marred  his  and  their  brows. 

DANIEL  FLLLMORE  sits  at  the  table  as  secretary,  an 
office  which  he  honourably  sustained  for  many  years  in 
the  old  New-England  Conference.  He  had  been  Hed- 
ding's  associate  in  the  Bromfield-street  charge,  and  saw 
both  the  dark  day  and  the  day  of  deliverance  to  Boston 
Methodism.  Preeminent  in  that  "  meekness  of  wisdom" 
which  is  commended  in  the  Scriptures,  ever  kindly  and 
cordial  with  his  brethren,  of  persuasive  talents  in  the  pul- 
pit, and  unusual  capacity  for  the  labours  and  difficult 
offices  of  the  pastor,  he  has  served  the  Church  through 
many  years  with  an  unblemished  name  and  unfaltering 
integrity. 

First  on  his  left  is  seen  the  ample  brow  of  the  venerable 
BRODHEAD,  one  of  the  founders  of  New-England  Method- 
ism, and  during  a  part  of  his  life  well-known  to  the  country 
as  a  member  of  Congress.  The  Boston  Post  said  at  the 
time  of  his  death : — 

"  Possessing  naturally  a  strong  mind,  warm  affections, 
and  an  imposing  person,  he  was  a  popular  as  well  as  an 


364  THE    OLD   NEW-ENGLAND   CONFERENCE. 

able  and  pious  preacher ;  and  probably  no  man  in  New- 
England  had  more  personal  friends,  or  could  exercise  a 
more  widely-extended  influence.  He  was  repeatedly  elect- 
ed to  the  Senate  of  his  adopted  State,  and  to  Congress,  yet 
was  always  personally  averse  to  taking  office  ;  and  though 
he  spoke  but  seldom  on  political  subjects,  the  soundness  of 
his  judgment,  and  the  known  purity  of  his  life,  gave  much 
weight  to  his  opinions.  In  the  early  days  of  his  ministry 
he  endured  almost  incredible  fatigue  and  hardship  in  car- 
rying the  glad  tidings  of  the  gospel  to  remote  settlements, 
often  swimming  rivers  on  horseback,  and  preaching  in  his 
clothes  saturated  with  water,  till  he  broke  down  a  naturally 
robust  constitution,  and  laid  the  foundation  of  disease, 
which  affected  him  more  or  less  during  his  after  life.  In 
his  last  days,  the  gospel,  which  he  had  so  long  and  so  faith- 
fully preached  to  others,  was  the  never-failing  support  of 
his  own  mind.  To  a  brother  clergyman  who  inquired  of 
him,  a  short  time  before  his  death,  how  he  was,  he  said : 
'  The  old  vessel  is  a  wreck,  but  I  trust  in  God  the  cargo  is 
safe!'" 

As  a  preacher,  he  possessed  more  than  ordinary  talents ; 
his  clear  understanding,  combined  with  quick  sensibilities 
and  a  vivid  imagination,  could  not  but  render  him  eloquent 
on  the  themes  of  religion.  He  was  partial  to  the  benigner 
topics  of  the  gospel,  and  often  would  his  congregations  and 
himself  melt  into  tears  under  the  inspiration  of  his  subjects. 
"When  he  treated  on  the  divine  denunciations  of  sin,  it  was 
with  a  solemnity,  and  at  times  with  an  awful  grandeur,  that 
overwhelmed  his  hearers.  "  I  heard  him,"  says  a  veteran 
of  our  ministry,  "  when  I  was  a  young  man,  preach  on  the 
Last  Judgment,  in  Bromfield-street  chapel,  on  a  Sabbath 
evening,  and  if  the  terrible  reality  had  occurred  that  night 


THE  OLD   NEW-ENGLAND   CONFERENCE.  365 

its  impression  could  hardly  have  been  more  awfully  alarm- 
ing." At  such  times,  "  seeing  the  terror  of  the  Lord,"  he 
persuaded  men  with  a  resistless  eloquence,  his  large  person 
and  noble  countenance  seemed  to  dilate  with  the  majesty 
of  his  thoughts,  and  he  stood  forth  before  the  awe-struck 
assembly  with  the  authority  of  an  ambassador  of  Christ. 

At  the  right  of  Brodhead,  the  benign  face  of  ENOCH 
MUDGE  will  be  recognised  by  his  old  hearers — a  man 
dearly  beloved  by  New-England  as  the  first  Methodist 
preacher  raised  up  within  her  bounds,  an  honour  which 
has  the  signal  peculiarity  that  it  can  never  be  impaired — 
can  never  be  shared  by  another.  He  was  small  in  stature, 
stoutly  framed,  with  a  full  ruddy  face,  a  noble  phrenologi- 
cal development,  abundant  but  silvered  hair,  a  kindliness 
of  manner  that  insinuated  cordial  feelings  into  the  rudest- 
heart  in  his  company,  and  an  eloquence,  in  the  pulpit, 
always  fresh  and  winning.  He  braved  heroically  the  first 
and  hardest  battles  of  Methodism,  pursuing  his  itinerant 
career  in  Maine,  Massachusetts,  Rhode  Island,  and  Con- 
necticut, and  died  at  last  amid  the  benedictions  of  all  the 
Eastern  Church. 

In  manners,  he  would  have  been  a  befitting  companion 
for  St.  John.  The  spirit  of  Christian  charity  imbued  him ; 
hopefulness,  cheerfulness,  entire  reliance  on  God,  confidence 
in  his  friends,  extreme  care  to  give  no  offence,  and  a  felici- 
tous relish  of  the  reliefs  and  comforts  of  green  old  age, 
were  among  his  marked  characteristics.  He  was  distin- 
guished by  fine  pulpit  qualifications — fertility  of  thought, 
a  warmth  of  feeling  without  extravagance,  a  peculiar  rich- 
ness of  illustration,  and  a  manner  always  self-possessed,  and 
marked  by  the  constitutional  amenity  of  his  temper.  None 
were  ever  wearied  under  his  discourses.  He  published  a 


366  THE   OLD   NEW-ENGLAND   CONFERENCE. 

volume  of  excellent  sermons  for  mariners,  and  many  poetical 
pieces  of  more  than  ordinary  merit. 

At  the  right  of  Mudge  stands  the  veteran  ASA  KENT, 
who  still  survives — one  of  the  few  remaining  members  of 
that  corps  of  strong  men  who  laid  the  foundations  of  our 
cause  in  the  New-England  States.  He  is  small  in  person  ; 
his  face  bears  the  marks  of  extreme  years,  and  he  totters 
on  the  verge  of  the  grave ;  but  his  faculties  retain  a  re- 
markable degree  of  vigour,  as  his  occasional  writings  in  our 
periodicals  show.  His  memory  is  a  store-house  of  old 
Methodistic  reminiscences,  and  our  historical  writers  owe 
much  to  his  recollections  and  sound  judgment.  Yermont, 
Massachusetts,  and  Rhode  Island  have  been  the  principal 
fields  of  his  labour.  He  shared  the  severest  conflicts  of  our 
cause  in  the  former,  and  is  a  living  history  of  the  Church 
in  that  State.  The  great  peculiarities  of  Methodism  are 
with  him,  as  with  most  of  our  early  preachers,  very  pre- 
cious. "  I  believe,"  he  says,  in  a  letter  once  addressed  to 
the  writer  of  this  article, — "  I  believe  the  Lord  cleansed  my 
soul  from  sin  more  than  forty  years  ago.  I  have  not 
steadily  enjoyed  the  witness  of  it;  but,  for  nearly  that 
time,  have  seen  no  terrors  in  death  or  the  grave.  The  doc- 
trine of  holiness  is  my  comfort  and  joy,  and  I  hope,  through 
mercy,  to  dwell  with  God  forever,  as  a  sinner  saved  by 
grace ;  even  so.  Amen." 

In  about  the  centre  of  the  pews  JOSEPH  A.  MEKEILL  will 
be  recognised,  with  his  face  turned  toward  the  spectator. 
His  name  has  become  quite  familiar  in  the  New-England 
Conference,  not  only  from  his  own  long  connexion  with  it, 
but  also  by  the  number  of  worthy  sons  whom  his  careful 
training  has,  under  God,  given  to  the  ministry.  He  was  a 
"  strong  man  "• — a  good,  sound  preacher,  unshakable  in  his 


THE   OLD  NEW-ENGLAND   CONFERENCE.  367 

adhesion  to  the  great  principles  of  Methodism,  a  persever- 
ing labourer  in  many  hard  fields,  the  associate  of  Kuter 
and  Fisk  in  the  early  struggles  of  the  Church  for  educa- 
tional institutions,  and  a  man  of  unusual  sagacity  and 
skill  in  the  practical  management  of  public  affairs.  His 
frame  was  large,  though  not  corpulent,  his  head  amply 
developed,  and  his  features  regular. 

On  his  left  sits  EBENEZER  F.  NEWELL,  another  of  the 
survivors  of  the  first  battles  of  the  Church  in  the  East. 
His  labours  have  been  chiefly  in  Vermont,  Maine,  and 
Massachusetts.  His  memoirs  have  been  published;  they 
are  very  entertainingly  characteristic,  and  full  of  illustra- 
tions of  the  hardships  and  triumphs  of  our  primitive  preach- 
ers. Mr.  Newell  is  remarkable  for  his  exceeding  amiability, 
the  warmth  of  his  religious  sympathies,  his  ready  conver- 
sational powers,  and  the  many  interesting  recollections  of 
the  "  old  times  "  with  which  his  conversation  is  enlivened. 

Behind  him,  and  in  the  adjacent  right-hand  pew,  sits 
THOMAS  C.  PIERCE,  a  man  well-beloved,  especially  in  Yer- 
mont  and  Massachusetts,  where  he  laboured  faithfully  and 
with  much  success  through  a  long  life.  He  was  slight  in 
person  and  infirm  in  health,  but  always  abounding  in  the 
work  of  the  Lord.  He  had  good  talents,  a  rare  aptness 
in  the  illustration  of  truth,  a  persuasive,  winning  manner 
in  his  discourse,  and  was  an  unusually  successful  pastor. 
He  lived  a  good  working  life,  and  died  well,  leaving  a 
name  in  the  Church  that  is  as  ointment  poured  forth. 

To  the  left  of  Mr.  Pierce,  and  closely  behind  him,  are 
seen  the  full  and  kindly  features  of  ABRAHAM  D.  MERRILL, 
who  still  lives  and  labours  in  the  New-England  Conference. 
He  is  large  in  person,  with  a  capacious  head,  ample  fea- 
tures, and  a  voice  of  music,  which  he  not  unfrequently  uses 


368  THE   OLD   NEW-ENGLAND   CONFERENCE. 

with  the  force  of  a  trumpet;  for,  though  a  Jeremiah  in 
pathos,  he  is  also  known  in  the  Church  as  a  son  of  thun- 
der. His  talents  are  good,  his  appeals  sometimes  over- 
whelming ;  and  he  is,  in  fine,  what  every  preacher  of  the 
gospel  should  be,  a  "  revivalist." 

At  his  right,  in  the  same  pew  with  Thomas  C.  Pierce, 
sits  EPAPHRAS  KJBBY,  one  of  the  strong  men  among  "  the 
giants  of  those  days"  when  Methodism  had  to  advance 
amid  continual  conflicts.  Fifty-five  years  ago  he  entered 
the  itinerancy;  he  lingers  still  among  his  brethren  with 
erect  form  and  vigorous  faculties,  but  disabled  strength. 
He  saw  the  great  battles  and  the  triumphs  of  our  cause  in 
Maine,  at  the  beginning  of  the  century.  He  was  one  of 
the  most  powerful  and  popular  of  our  early  preachers  in 
Boston.  He  formed  the  first  Methodist  Society  in  the  city 
of  New-Bedford.  Mr.  Kibby  is  tall  and  slight  in  person, 
extremely  neat  in  dress,  and  venerable  with  age.  His 
talents  were  of  a  very  superior  order.  His  imagination 
furnished  him  with  vivid  illustrations,  always  abundant, 
chaste,  and  appropriate.  His  reasoning  was  strikingly  per- 
spicuous, direct,  and  conclusive,  his  language  remarkable 
for  both  elegance  and  force.  Though  he  never  used  notes 
in  the  pulpit,  yet  a  large  portion  of  his  sermons  were  fully 
written — the  cause,  probably,  of  that  rich  and  correct  dic- 
tion which  so  eminently  characterized  even  his  impromptu 
addresses.  He  has  been  a  fond  lover  of  good  literature, 
and  abounds  in  general  knowledge.  His  judgment  has 
always  been  cautious  and  safe,  his  zeal  steady  and  effective, 
his  attachment  to  the  doctrines  and  economy  of  Methodism 
unwavering  amid  many  calls  and  temptations  to  more 
comfortable  stations  in  other  communions.  Without  am- 
bition or  pretension,  he  attained  to  a  rare  popularity  as  a 


THE   OLD   NEW-ENGLAND   CONFERENCE.  369 

preacher  in  the  days  of  his  vigour.  He  has  accomplished 
distinguished  service  in  the  Church,  and  is  endeared  to  it, 
in  most  of  New-England,  by  precious  recollections. 

Near  Mr.  Kibby,  at  the  head  of  the  pew  in  front  of  him, 
sits  ISAAC  BONNET,  another  of  the  veterans  still  remain- 
ing among  his  brethren,  though  unable  to  share  their 
labours.  Shaken  by  more  than  threescore  and  ten  years, 
and  nearly  half  a  century  of  itinerant  life,  he  has  retired 
into  the  superannuate  ranks,  where,  however,  he  is  not 
forgotten,  but  enjoys  not  only  the  respect,  but  the  love  of 
his  many  friends. 

He  has  been  distinguished  by  modest  worth,  a  pure 
exemplariness  of  life,  an  indisposition  to  accept  the  prefer- 
ments of  honour  or  place  among  his  brethren,  a  sound  but 
unpretending  piety,  a  discriminating  judgment,  good  pulpit 
ability,  and  success  in  his  labours.  Isaac  Bonney  is,  in 
fine,  one  of  those  modest  but  genuine  men,  who  are  prized 
immeasurably  more  by  discerning  minds  among  their 
friends  than  they  are  by  themselves,  and  whose  associates 
learn  to  value  them  higher  as  they  know  them  better. 
He  is  an  example  of  our  primitive  ministry  which  the 
future  historian  of  Methodism  will  commemorate  with 
pleasure. 

Not  far  oif  EDWARD  T.  TAYLOR  stands,  with  folded  arms, 
in  the  aisle.  He  is  noted  through  the  country  as  an 
original,  both  in  character  and  talents — an  orator,  sui 
generis — a  wit  overflowing  with  humour — a  man  of  strong 
sense,  of  deep  pathos,  of  the  freshest  poetic  thought — a 
powerful  preacher — a  gentleman,  even  to  gracefulness,  in 
manners — a  murderer  of  the  queen's  English,  and,  best 
known  as  "  the  mariner's  preacher  of  Boston." 

Immediately  behind  Mr.   Taylor  sits  DAVID  KILBURN. 


THE  OLD  NEW-ENGLAND  CONFEKENCE. 

He  has  seen  about  threescore  years  and  ten,  and  has  spent 
nearly  half  a  century  in  the  ministerial  work  in  almost  all 
the  New-England  States.  His  preaching  has  been  accom- 
panied with  good  sense  and  the  unction  from  above.  His 
frame  is  large,  his  head  well  developed,  his  features  full 
and  benevolent,  and  many  are  the  seals  to  his  ministry. 

Such  are  a  few,  and  only  a  few,  of  the  men  of  note  who 
belonged  to  the  old  New-England  Conference  before  its 
division  into  its  present  half-dozen  sections.  They  and 
their  coadjutors  had  the  hardest  field  of  Methodism  in  the 
nation ;  they  have  made  it  the  best,  in  the  estimation  of 
many,  and  all  will  admit  it  to  be,  at  least,  among  the  best. 
The  growth  of  the  Church  within  the  Eastern  States  has  not 
only  been  great,  numerically  and  morally,  but  in  all  those 
material  provisions  which  give  security  and  permanence  to 
a  denomination — in  good  and  well-located  chapels,  literary 
institutions,  &c. — it  is  probably  before  any  other  portion 
of  our  common  cause.  One  honour,  at  least,  will  be  con- 
ceded it ;  it  has  had  greater  difficulties  to  overcome  than 
any  other  portion  of  the  denomination,  and  has  fully  con- 
quered them.  Its  success  is  a  common  honour  to  us  all. 


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